


Change is For Tip Jars

by septicrats



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: ... hopefully, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Elijah Kamski & Gavin Reed are Half-Siblings, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Eventual Happy Ending, Gavin Reed Being Less of an Asshole, Gavin Reed Being an Asshole, Gavin Reed is Bad at Feelings, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, Lard, M/M, Minor Character Death, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Plot As We Go, Slight Canon Divergence, Slow Burn, Strained Mother-Son Relationship, Suicidal Thoughts, Touch-Starved, because aren't we all, but he'll be okay!, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-15
Updated: 2020-08-29
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:02:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 33,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25288747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/septicrats/pseuds/septicrats
Summary: "The world was full of different flavors, and Gavin was the one in the sticky wrapper that tastes of flu medicine."orGavin Reed changes. Slowly. Reluctantly. And not without help.
Relationships: Connor/Gavin Reed
Comments: 19
Kudos: 140





	1. The One Without Connor

The morning of February 29th was a beautiful one. Swirling shades of yellow, blue, and a soft dappled purple twisted above the towering corporate buildings of Detroit, the huge screens covering their sides flashing a momentary white as they caught the first peek of a warm sun that shone a gentle orange behind the layers of brisk winter air and factory pollution. Just when the snowmen-lovers and sled-racers had lost all hope of a white winter, a light dusting of fine powder had fallen silently overnight - enough to make shallow snow angels, but not enough to disrupt the normal flow of early morning traffic. In fact, a few stray flakes were still falling as the first pair of headlights cut through the remaining darkness.

And in a humble, slightly-unloved one-bedroom on Capitol Street, Gavin Reed was fucking livid.

In moments of rare self-reflection, Gavin realized that he got angry very often. Actually, there seldom seemed an afternoon where, by the time his coffee had come and gone, he wasn’t being short to witnesses or taking more smoke breaks than he had cigarettes or clenching his jaw to avoid telling poor Officer Chen to  _ stop humming that fucking song, I swear to Christ _ . However, he never pondered on the thought for very long. Sure, he couldn’t keep a consistent friendship for more than a month, and a minor inconvenience was often followed by several weeks of periodic outbursts (leading to a growing mural of holes in his drywall), and any partners he worked with on a case would avoid speaking to him entirely unless it was absolutely, strictly necessary, but that was just the way things were. People don’t change; they can’t. The world was full of different flavors, and Gavin was the one in the sticky wrapper that tastes of flu medicine. Oh well; spend another quarter for a different one. 

On this particular morning, however, Gavin did not think about his anger problem. On the contrary, he wasn’t actually thinking of much at all. His body had set off a blaring alarm to his entire system, and his brain seemed to have evacuated amongst the panic. Fowler had forwarded an email to everyone in the office. Under twitching fingers, his phone screen read something like this:

“Detroit City Police Department, Sixth Precinct,

We are happy to announce that Cyberlife has chosen to offer our services to your force by gifting you with our newest, state-of-the-art android prototype - the RK800... detective… fully-functional DNA lab… real-time reconstruction of events… able to profile an individual in approximately 0.8 seconds… complete record database… adaptable… equipped with external additions such as… congratulations!... on March 17th, 2038… we hope to hear your feedback… 

Thank you for… ,

Cyberlife Offices”

Gavin didn’t need to read the email at length. The words twisted and spun around, forming entirely new ones.

_ Better than you. _

This is it. It’s finally happening.

_ Replacement. _

He never should’ve been so complacent about the ST300 receptionist.

_ No paycheck needed. _

This time, three new holes were added to his mural. He’d have to start standing on chairs soon.

* * *

The next two weeks were torturous. Some people grumbled about the announcement (Lieutenant Anderson, Officer Chen), some people couldn’t shut up about it (Officer Lewis, Officer Brown), some people ignored it entirely (Officer Person, Captain Fowler, Officer Wilson), and some people, well… some people were Gavin Reed. 

No one had seen Gavin get up from his desk since the 28th. He seemed to be the first to arrive and the last to leave, staying glued to his chair for the entirety of the day- eyes never wavering from his screen, mouth shut tight in a paper-thin line, fingers racing across the keyboard like scurrying rats in a small cage. It was unclear whether he had been shackled to desk duty or if crime had stopped in its tracks to allow him a few weeks of processing time. Nevertheless, his work productivity seemed to have increased tenfold. 

_ Might as well get on Fowler’s good side while I can.  _

On March 15th, something quite special occurred. At 10:14 AM, Gavin stood from his desk and made his way to the break room. Several pairs of eyes flitted to his retreating form, contemplating taking an early lunch break to avoid the inevitable explosion of whatever emotions had been rattling around in that skull of his for the past few weeks. The sound of the coffee maker buzzed for a minute or two, and then he returned with a plain navy mug clutched neatly in his hand. The room breathed a collective sigh of relief.

This event occurred eleven more times that day.

On March 16th, Gavin did not arrive at the precinct. Many silently wished him a safe and pleasant voyage to hell.

On March 17th, Gavin returned. Tina, that ol’ softie, had left him a single tea bag on his desk accompanied by an index card that read “please seek help”. After a few minutes of thought, Gavin fixed himself a tea and waited for his career to be destroyed.

March 17th passed by without any sign of the android, much to everyone’s surprise. The only thing exciting that happened was that someone decided to turn the toilet water green in honor of a holiday that had long since become irrelevant. Gavin stayed 4 hours after his shift, then wrote the entire incident off as a mass hallucination due to some new chemical in the tap water.  _ Maybe I’ll start drinking milk. _

The morning of March 18th, the news reported that a PL600 had taken a young girl hostage on the roof of some spiffy apartment building. The footage showed a figure approaching the deviant, slowly but steadily creeping towards the edge of the rooftop. 

“Idiot,” Gavin huffed through a mouthful of toast, “it’s not gonna stand down. The fuckin’ thing’s gone completely mental.”

But, to his surprise, he watched as the deviant released the girl. A beat passed, and then the tin can was, quite unceremoniously, served a lead salad. If that wasn’t enough to bust the damn thing, it also painted the sidewalk blue.  _ Good riddance. Maybe another one’ll hafta clean it up. _

But Gavin’s bemused attitude disappeared as the reporters continued.

“The incident was defused by the most recent addition to the DPD: an RK800 android meant to test the effectiveness of artificial intelligence on deduction and problem solving. Witnesses note that-”

He was no longer listening. He decided to get some more paperwork done before his shift. Gavin put some wet food in a dish on the counter for Lard to scarf down at her leisure, threw on some pants and his leather jacket, pried open the door of his creaky Ford, and sped towards the office. 

* * *

The RK800 was not at the building when Gavin arrived. It didn’t arrive when he began his morning paperwork, and it didn’t arrive as he clocked out later that night. As he was leaving, he saw several officers speed away, no doubt reporting to another dead man’s party that Fowler hadn’t bothered to invite him to. Even with Gavin’s recent spike in his ability to complete paperwork and file tame reports, the amount of time he spent outside the precinct had been on a steep decline for the past month. He couldn’t tell if it had anything to do with the new knight in shining plastic, but he assumed that it certainly wasn’t helping him wrangle in any extra cases. But the piece of junk didn’t even show up to the building. At least Gavin had the decency to sit down at a desk, keep himself humble, maybe even spend a little time looking over dossiers for someone else’s case. 

Only when he was a stoplight away from Jimmy’s Bar, beginning to drift away while staring at the red glow, did an important thought occur to him.

_ Why the fuck would a bucket of bolts built for chasing criminals and analyzing evidence need to work a damn office job? _

RoboKop800 didn’t work for a paycheck. Hell, it barely worked for  _ Fowler _ . In the end, Cyberlife was using the thing to determine just how many human detectives they could remove from the force. It could probably write reports faster than it took Gavin plop the K-Cup into the coffee machine. The android would probably be seen exclusively on the scenes themselves. And considering the work he had been assigned lately, Gavin would be seeing very little of both of them.

With this in mind, he pulled his car into the small lot next to the pub, taking the slightest bit of comfort in the ‘NO ANDROIDS ALLOWED’ sign plastered firmly on the entrance door. 

The first thing he noticed as he stepped into the threshold was Lieutenant Anderson half-draped over the counter, head raised half-heartedly to watch the Detroit Gears game. The geezer’s eyes flitted to him momentarily, and an almost-unintelligible groan of displeasure passed through his lips. Normally, Gavin would mind his own business and take a seat at a discreet corner table, but most of them were full anyway, and he would be lying if he said he wasn’t interested in watching the game as well. Trying to keep his stature less hostile than usual, he lumbered over and occupied the seat to the right of the other man. 

“Reed,” Anderson muttered, “has anyone let you know that you look like shit tonight?”

“You’d be the first. Anyone tell you about the washed-up Clancy Brown thing you have going on?” It was an easy joke, but it was his absolute favorite. Anderson didn’t bother with a response. 

The two of them watched the game in silence after that, each nursing a bottle of beer that never strayed further than a few inches from their lips. It only took Gavin three minutes to finish his first round, and it took him fifteen minutes to down the two that came after it. His position now mirrored Anderson’s; his half-lidded eyes were the only part of his body pointed upwards. 

“Y’seen the new ‘droid yet?” the lieutenant slurred next to him, breaking the silence. 

Gavin shook his head. “Whenever I do, it’ll be far too soon.”

The silence resumed.

As the Gears took another timeout (“Oh, come the fuck on,” Anderson grumbled, “put Denton Carter in and be done with it.”), Gavin pushed himself off of the stool with more-than-a-little effort and lumbered towards the bathroom near the back of the bar. “Tell me what I miss.” he called over his shoulder, earning a non-commital grunt from Anderson.

Once in the bathroom, he promptly emptied the contents of his stomach. After the unpleasantries were dealt with, he leaned against the side of one of the stalls, trying to catch his breath over the violating smell of his own puke and the general fumes of the bar toilets. 

_ Ding. _

His pocket glowed as his text tone cut through the echoing sounds of his heaving. Bringing one hand to drag over his face, Gavin reached into his jeans and languidly pulled out the device. 

_ Dad. _

> ‘You told me you were going to take St. Patty’s Day off? What happened?’

It took him a few moments to calm his shaking fingers to tap out a response.

‘sorry. important case came up n i had to cover 4 a friend.’ <

‘can take off this saturday n come see you?’ <

> ‘:-) See you then!’

He slipped the phone into his jacket with a sigh. He couldn’t admit that he’d blown off a family dinner to meet a hunk of metal that never even showed up. 

Oh well. He’d make it up to his dad somehow.

Staggering out of the bathroom, he noticed that Anderson’s seat was no longer occupied. Momentarily confused, he looked to the door, still swinging shut.

Just in time to see the brilliant flash of a blue triangle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More from Lard next time.


	2. The Interrogation (Remastered and Re-Gavin-ed)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Interrogation, but with some enlightening thoughts from our favorite asshole.

Gavin woke up shit-faced. 

The four hours of sleep that he managed to catch did not calm his pounding headache, nor did it cure the familiar beer-for-dinner pangs in his stomach. 

_ Advil. Water. Food. _

He made to get the pills stashed messily in his bedside table, but he found that his chest was a lot heavier than usual. Eyes still blurry from sleep, he peered down at himself, trying to make sense of the lump that had sprung up while he slept.

_ … tits? _

His newfound breasts meowed. 

Ah. Lard.

The cat shifted out from beneath the blankets, making sure to firmly step on Gavin’s trachea in the process of stretching her back and daintily leaping off of the bed, shedding gray fur from her fat, pampered body as she went. Following her lead, Gavin stood and stretched, ignoring how his head throbbed with every heartbeat. After downing a pill or two (or four), he made his way to the kitchen, Lard brushing up against his legs at every opportunity.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m getting there.” Gavin mumbled to her. Scooping a spoonful of wet food into her dish, he poured a small amount of cereal into a mug for himself, followed by an ocean of milk. As he ate, he watched Lard devour her own respective breakfast. A gentle, fond smile crept onto his face.  _ What a fatass.  _

After a few more minutes of doting on the cat, Gavin left his mug on the counter, reuniting it with the mountain of dishware that had already begun to pile up, despite him having cleaned the kitchen a few days ago (or was it a few weeks?). 

_ Shit, it’s almost 11.  _ He pulled on a (relatively) clean pair of blue jeans, paired with a plain black shirt that only slightly smelled of the meat he had burned three nights ago. He had lost his leather jacket somewhere amongst last night’s disaster, so he settled for a faded red hoodie and, with one final goodbye to the beast, Gavin left for work.

When he arrived, he made sure to notify Fowler of his planned absence for tomorrow, leaving the reason as a “family emergency”. Technically, it wasn’t a lie. His dad was probably dying of boredom in that old house by himself. Unless his mom decided to stop by. Then there really  _ was  _ going to be an emergency.

It was around midnight when Anderson strolled over to his desk. Gavin glanced up in genuine surprise, trying to mask it with a grimace. “Lieutenant. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Follow me; you’re on interrogation duty with us.”

_ Us? _ Gavin wondered as he walked briskly beside Anderson towards the interrogation room.  _ Did he drag Collins in too? _

His thoughts were interrupted by a body quickly exiting the room almost directly in front of him, causing Gavin to crash awkwardly against the other figure’s neck. 

“Ah, shit, the fuck-”

His heart leaped into his throat. Then again, for an entirely different reason. 

The man in front of him was easily one of the most attractive people to grace the precinct. Briefly, he wondered if he was a government official, with the way his square jaw and angular features formed a serious but inquisitive expression as he looked down at him. Then his eyes found his suit.

The suit with a large blue triangle shown on the front.

RK800. #313 248 317- 51. 

“Terribly sorry about that, Detective.”

His eyes were ripped from the jacket to the source of the voice, bright brown eyes locking with his own murky pair. 

_ Plastic. _

Anderson huffed a sigh of annoyance. “Reed, this is Connor. It’s gonna be sitting in for the investigation.”

He couldn’t think of a single thing to say. Not a quip, not a jab, nothing to make himself the better one in this situation.  _ Better than me. _

“... ‘Kay.” Gavin managed.

And that was it.

* * *

Gavin was briefed on the case beforehand by another officer who had been on the scene. The tin can stabbed the guy twenty-eight times (twenty-eight?!) then went to hide in the attic, where “Connor” had found it. Gavin wouldn’t be doing any of the interrogating this time; he was usually reserved for the tight-lipped calm type - the ones who were so far gone that they had detached themselves from the crime completely. Gavin was good at putting things into perspective. Also considering his not-so-hidden avoidance of androids, this case would definitely not be his specialty. He felt the familiar pang of disappointment (embarrassment?) at not being able to show off a little, but it was gone almost immediately.  _ It’s just one case. _

Anderson stepped into the room with the cuffed android, leaving him, Officer Miller, and RoboKop on the other side of the glass. Feeling an almost-imperceptible sense of tension fall upon the room, Gavin moved to stand next to Chris, who was sitting at the panel in front of the glass. He tried to turn all of his focus towards the restrained android, studying the injuries along its face and arms. 

_ It hadn’t resisted arrest. The thing was obviously getting smacked around a little too hard, mostly likely by the victim.  _

As Anderson began his flow of questions, Gavin only clenched his jaw tighter. It didn’t show any signs of hearing him; it didn’t even bother to look at him. It obviously needed a more intense approach.

After snapping his fingers a few times, the lieutenant sighed and gave up on trying to force it to talk. Gavin shifted to the far side of the room, to the right of where the android detective stood chillingly still, and leaned against the wall. 

_ A rougher approach. A human would need to hit that perfect level of stress to let everything spill out. Usually, they’d just need to be screamed at a little, maybe a sprinkle of threat. But this thing’s a bundle of code. Maybe triggering what started the behavior in the first place… ? _

“... not getting anything out of it.” Anderson was saying. Might as well speak up.

“‘Could always try roughing it up a little.” Gavin offered. “After all, it isn’t human.”  _ Re-trigger the glitch. Can’t sue us or anything like- _

“Androids don’t feel pain. You would only damage it, and that wouldn’t make it talk.”

His eyes darted towards the voice.  _ No, that’s not what I- _

Cold expression. Plastic face.  _ Machine. _

“Deviants also have a tendency to self-destruct when they’re in stressful situations-”

_ Shut up. You’re not better than me. _

“Okay, smartass.” His voice rang louder than he meant it to, and he cringed inwardly at his own tone, but fuck it. He was a little pissed. Gavin stepped forward a little, gesturing to the captive. “What should we do then?”  _ Got a better idea, dipshit? _

It looked almost bashful, surprised by its own thought.  _ No thoughts. Code. _ “I could try questioning it.”

His laugh came bubbling up before he could stop it.  _ Jesus fucking Christ. Already gunning for the position, eh? _

Anderson lifted a hand in resignation. “What do we have to lose?”

_ What can it do that you couldn’t? _

And so it was sent in.

* * *

It was brilliant.

Every word that came out of its mouth was said with perfectly calculated inflection and tone, every movement meant to spike a specific emotion. And before long, the damn thing cracked. 

“He tortured me every day…”

_ For fuck’s sake. _

Once it was done asking questions, it stood and made to leave the room. Gavin and Miller took the cue to escort the restrained android back to the holding cell. “Chris, lock it up.” he ordered as they entered, unable to keep his gaze off of Connor as he passed it.  _ Christ. _

But as Chris reached for the cuffs, the android flinched away, starting to shake slightly. “Don’t touch me…” it muttered.  _ You’ve gotta be kidding me. _

“The fuck are you-” Gavin started, but RoboKop interrupted.

“You shouldn’t touch it. It’ll self-destruct if it feels threatened.”  _ What about you, huh? You’ll blow up too, if you get spooked enough? _

Hot anger rose into his throat. “Stay out of this, got it? No fuckin’ android’s gonna tell me what to do.”  _ I can’t let my guard down. Not in front of the others. _

The android tried once again to intervene, but Gavin didn’t even hear it this time. “I told you to shut your fuckin’ mouth.” he warned, glancing into its eyes desperately. His breath was quickening, and the struggle happening next to him was doing nothing to calm his nerves. “Chris, gonna move this asshole or what?”

“I’m trying!” the other man responded, still wrestling with the aggressor. 

And then Connor moved, and his mind just up and walked away. 

His gun was drawn. “I warned you, motherfucker!” Gavin growled, pointing the weapon straight at its plastic face.  _ How’s this for threatened, bolt bag? Gonna blow? _

Anderson’s voice brought him back to the present. “That’s enough.” he called. But his temper wouldn’t be tamed so easily.

“Mind your own business,  _ Hank. _ ” He spit his name out like it was chewing tobacco. Nothing to do now. Only action.

“I said, ‘that’s enough’.” And then Hank’s gun was aimed at the side of Gavin’s head. And that was enough to bring his brain back.  _ Welcome home. How was the trip? _

His face contorted, then he swung the firearm back down to his side. “Fuck!” It was almost a cough. With a last, empty threat at Anderson that didn’t stay in his mind for longer than three seconds, he left the room. Tail between his legs. 

_Embarrassing._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gavin puts his cereal before his milk, and so should you.


	3. Family (and What It's Not)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> CONTENT WARNING: This chapter contains implications of domestic abuse and child abuse. Please consider your own comfort before reading.

He left for his dad’s around 9 AM, which was far too early for anything at all. The drive would likely take him about two hours, so he selected a short playlist that contained some of his dad’s favorite songs, as well as a few that Gavin was familiar with. As long as it was from the 90s, he could probably enjoy it. 

The route was peaceful; the transition from the oppressively tall office buildings and factories to quieter suburban parks helped to put his mind at ease. Listening closely, he could hear the occasional cry of chickadee ring through the air, steadily crescendoing as the city lost its hold on him.  _ Home free, baby. _

Gavin pulled into the driveway just as The Mystics began their first chorus;  _ Oh, my darlin’, don’t you cry…  _ He saw his dad’s truck parked on the street in front of the house, leaving room for Gavin’s car in the driveway. He didn’t see any other cars parked near the house, and he breathed an audible sigh of relief.  _ No Mom. No Elijah. _

Before he could even open his car door, his dad came bustling outside, a wide grin breaking out on his wrinkled face.

Neil Reed was a gentle soul. Both of Gavin’s parents sported sleek, jet-black hair, and Neil’s had managed to maintain its color and shine through his older age. His gray eyes were almost identical to Gavin’s, save for the pale pupil of his right eye, where a long, jagged line crossed over it from his eyebrow to the corner of his mouth. As a child, Gavin always wanted a scar like that. 

_ “It makes you look tough! No one wants to fuck with a guy with a scar!” _

“Gav!” his father greeted joyfully, “I’m so glad you could make it!”

“Hey, Dad.” he replied, allowing Neil to wrap his arms around his son snugly. “How’re things?”

His dad chuckled into Gavin’s hair, tall stature causing him to bend down slightly to look into his eyes. “Things are good; I’ve been trying gardening again.”

The two men continued their idle chatter as they entered the house. Gavin breathed in the scent of home - old vanilla candles, the abundance of wood furniture, something his father tried to cook that obviously did not survive the oven stage. 

“Take a seat!” his father urged as he slipped into the kitchen, returning with two boxes of lo mein from the nearest Chinese restaurant.  _ Classic. _

“So tell me about the job! Anything exciting recently?” Neil asked as they ate.

Gavin hesitated. He couldn’t bring up the android.  _ Because if we talk about androids, we’ll think of Elijah, and then you’ll ask if I’ve talked to him lately, and I’ll say no. And then you’ll give me that look: guilt. Pity. Regret. _

* * *

Neil found another pair of boxers that didn’t belong to him.

* * *

“And how’s that Hank fella? I know he was giving you trouble last time we talked.”

Gavin shrugged nonchalantly. “It’s whatever. Sat with him at a bar the other day. I think we’d both just rather move on.”

_ He pulled a gun on me yesterday, but that’s neither here nor there. _

His dad’s smile brightened. “That’s good. It’s nice to have friends in the workplace.”

He coughed. “I, ah, wouldn’t go that far-” But Neil was already waving a hand to stop him, shoveling another forkful of noodles into his mouth.

* * *

Natalia Kamski was a fire, and Neil was being burned alive.

He had married the woman of his dreams. Long black hair. Piercing blue eyes. A Cheshire grin that made him feel like he was suffocating in the best way. 

_ Open hand coming towards me; I’m sorry. _

His wife, her husband. Each other’s, no matter what. 

A child that never came. They cried together for three days straight.

_ She was at work yesterday night too. I’m eating alone again. I can’t cook. _

_ Another pair of boxers. She’s lonely. _

_ Excuses. Reason with her. _

_ Closed fist. _

* * *

“I was thinking of getting one of those household androids.”

Gavin choked. “Why? The house looks fine.”

The other man smiled. “I’m not young anymore. It’s getting harder to move around these days. I think an extra pair of hands could be helpful.” 

Gavin eyed him curiously. “... did you talk to Elijah?”

He looked at his son warily. “I did. A year or two ago, he offered me a prototype he was working on. Helps out the elderly like me.” Neil grinned.

_ Prototype. _

“Well, sorry I’m not around to help.” He was beginning to get frustrated; it’s not his father’s fault. If he needs one, he should get one.  _ Elijah’s going to turn him against me. _

_ Dad is  _ mine.

* * *

Another child on the way. Neil was overjoyed.

_ I love you so much. _

_ A pair of socks, this time. My son is in there.  _

Maybelle had been his friend since college.

_ I’m so fucking lonely. _

Dusty brown hair. Tanned skin.

Maybelle lived alone.

* * *

Gavin’s dad had made dessert. Well, “made” was a stretch; not much culinary genius was required to put ice cream into a bowl.

“I don’t know if you still like chocolate but… ah, who am I kidding, everyone likes chocolate.”

Gavin was still mulling over the prospect of his father getting an android.

“Y’know… if it’s ‘cuz you’re lonely, I could get you a cat… or a dog, or something?” he mumbled through his treat, unable to look him in the eye.

Neil smiled sadly. “Aw, thank you, Gav. But really, I just need a little help.”

He nodded.  _ An extra pair of hands. _

* * *

Elijah was born, and they were happy.

_ Maybelle came to the door, clutching her stomach. Swollen. _

Natalia would not speak to him.

_ A scar across his right eye. _

_ When did the apologies fade away? _

Labor was long. Longer than Elijah’s.

_ Gavin Reed. Maybelle lives in an apartment by herself. It has to be me.  _

They lived together, the four of them. A house too small to fit all the tension.

_ She doesn’t even try to hide it anymore. I see them now, leaving the house. Driving away. _

_ “It makes you look tough! No one wants to fuck with a guy with a scar!” _

_ Gavin. Language. _

_ He’s not doing well in school. Elijah’s a genius. _

Doctors’ visits.  _ ADHD.  _ Pills.

_ Bad grades. He’s only six. A scar across his nose. _

_ We have to leave. _

_ Natalia loves Elijah too much. _

Neil and Gavin. Natalia and Elijah.

* * *

It was getting late. Gavin had work tomorrow. A hug goodbye.  _ When shall I see thee again? _

* * *

_ Elijah’s a genius.  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song Gavin was listening to at the beginning is called Hushabye. Give it a listen!
> 
> Connor will be back soon.


	4. Of Hearing and Listening

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Waiting For Hank, and Gavin accepts that Connor isn't a toaster.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the lack of chapter quality; life's kicking my ass, and I write this instead of sleeping.

Gavin’s shift started at 8 AM on Sunday, and that was bullshit. 

He had stayed up until midnight staring at his phone screen with a stomach full of anxiety, thumb hovering over Elijah’s contact. The last time he had spoken to his brother had been Christmas three months ago. The family always tried to make peace on any holiday they could, as if coming together to celebrate something none of them believed in would wash away years of trauma.  _ Let’s make merry and forget. _

At the end of the night, Gavin and Elijah had shared a chilly goodbye. They were relatively close as children; Gavin thought Elijah could do anything, and Elijah thought Gavin could… well, he was his brother. But the split had torn a gaping trench between them.  _ After all those years, you stuck by her, knowing what she had done to us.  _

_ “She was good to me,” he had said, “she isn’t truly a monster. You only saw the worst parts.” _

_ I wish she was horrible all the time. _

But on that Christmas night, they tried to forget. 

“Have you been keeping up with what Cyberlife’s doing?” Gavin had asked, avoiding his eyes uncomfortably.

“I try to stay updated.” his brother had replied airily, voice trailing off delicately in that mysterious way of his.

“I mean, it’s still  _ your _ company, right? Even though you’re not the CEO anymore?” 

Elijah had then paused his absent observing of the room around them and looked straight at Gavin. “I am the founder of Cyberlife. But their actions are no longer my responsibility.”

Gavin didn’t understand, so he just nodded and coughed. 

_ Nothing to talk about but work. Why do I have to try, and he gets to wait? _

At 11:53, he caved.

what model are you giving dad. <

He fell asleep before he could worry about a response.

And now, the morning after, there was a reply.

> There is a prototype that remains unreleased to the public. I gifted one to a friend of mine a few years ago, and it seems to be doing very well. 

Gavin gritted his teeth.  _ Prototype. Prototype. _

just give him a normal one. he’s not a test subject. <

> I will ask him what he would prefer. I’ll make sure to inform him of your preference.

Another hole in the wall. He’d later congratulate himself on not throwing the phone. 

* * *

Gavin arrived at 7:57 in rare form.

He made a beeline for the coffee maker in the break room and, once it had supplied him with the sustenance, opted to ignore his usual cream and sugar in favor of getting it into his body as quickly as possible. Once caffeinated, Gavin slumped into his chair, pushing around the files on his computer.  _ There’s really nothing else. Fowler can’t keep me from real cases forever. _

_ Ding. _

> I hope I’m not interrupting your work. I thought you’d want to know that Dad has chosen the PL600. 

not the prototype? <

> I suppose he wants something a bit more familiar.

Shoving his phone roughly into his pocket, Gavin tried to refocus on the task at hand.  _ Cases. Cases. A fourteen year old boy reported missing. A TR400 reported missing. A woman mugged on the side of the street who only had her clothes taken. A young girl found wandering alongside the road, claiming her mother had disappeared. An AX400 on the run with a little girl. A seven year old girl reported missing. But where to start? _

After a couple pitiful hours of fruitless filing, he suddenly pushed his chair away from his desk.  _ Lunch. I’ll refocus over lunch.  _

When he reentered the break room, however, Gavin saw that Tina was occupying one of the tables, scrolling idly on her phone and sipping on a drink from a paper cup. Upon hearing Gavin’s footsteps, her head snapped up, and a strange expression passed over her face before she covered it with a small smile. She waved him over before he could give the tried and true nod-and-resume-walking. 

“Thought you’d completely forgotten about me,” Tina chuckled as Gavin approached the table after grabbing a coffee similar to hers. “You were mentally MIA for a few weeks, y’know?”

He nodded, slightly embarrassed. “Yeah, lots going on right now. Sorry, T.”

She waved off his apology, taking a sip of the drink in front of her. “I get it, man. Life kicks you when you’re down.”

“Hell, if that ain’t the truth.”

They sat in silence for a few beats before Tina spoke up again.

“You took off yesterday?”

Gavin nodded, taking another big gulp of coffee. “Went down to see my dad.”

Her eyes flicked to his. “He okay?”

Unreasonable irritation flared up in his stomach. “Yeah, but he doesn’t seem to think so. Thinks he needs to get himself a plastic pet to follow him around.” Gavin’s face burned hot, a mix of anger and shame. 

Her nose crinkled in discomfort. “Yikes. At least he’ll have an extra pair of hands around.”

Gavin shrugged, unwilling to argue about it to her. Tina was probably the closest thing to a friend that he had, but they weren’t really tight like most friends were. They talked at work functions and occasional office encounters, but they didn’t interact outside of the job. He only had her number because they were required to have the cell numbers of every officer and detective at the precinct.  _ Guess that doesn’t apply to the plastic prick. _

“It’s just kinda gross when you think about it.” he continued nonchalantly. “They’re taking over our jobs, and now they’re worming their way into our families. If I hear my dad call the thing ‘son’, I swear I’ll smash it to fucking pieces.” 

Tina nodded, though she had returned to scrolling through her phone. “Yeah, I get that. My folks have one back home, and they treat it like it’s doing  _ them _ a favor. As if it would even exist without us.”

He snorted, then covered it with a cough. “Yup.”

And then, as if called down by the cruelest divine, RoboKop800 walked up to the entrance to the room, leaning forward slightly and looking inside, as if scanning the room for explosives.  _ Speak of the devil, and he shall appear in synthetic skin. _

He laughed silently, gesturing to Connor with his head. “Fuck, look at that,” he whispered to Tina, who chuckled, a hint of nervousness in her voice.

“Our friend, the plastic detective, is back in town.” He allowed his voice to carry to the android this time. “Congratulations on last night - very impressive,” he teased, clapping sarcastically.

Finally, it turned towards them, eyes still holding that same peculiar expression - curious, cold, but a hint of gentleness and the want to learn. For a beat, it simply stared at Gavin, who stared back, a little self-conscious.  _ What, now you’re gonna make an ass of me in front of Tina, too?  _ It looked as if it was waiting for him to say more, and he tried to think of something else to antagonize it about, but it finally spoke up.

“Hello, Detective Reed.”

Gavin blinked at Connor. His -  _ its  _ \- voice was deep and smooth, like spreading butter on bread. There wasn’t any hint of malice or distaste from their previous interaction.

He stepped away from the table, taking a few steps closer to the other detective. “Never seen an android like you before,” he tried to deepen his voice, but it ended up sounding more like a purr. Face flushing slightly, he continued, “what model are you?” He made sure to look down at where it was displayed on the front of its jacket before flitting his eyes back to their target.

“RK800.” It said it like it was explaining it to a child.  _ Is he - it… patronizing me?  _ “I’m a prototype.”

_ Prototype. Prototype.  _ “A prototype?”

He turned back to Tina, who had been looking at her phone for the duration of the interaction. He knew he was being embarrassing. He knew he looked like an asshole. But what did he have to lose? The little respect that Tina had left for him? It was like jumping out of a window, but from the first floor. 

“Android detective,” he introduced. She gave him a small smile, and then returned to her previous task.  _ I’m losing already. I’m standing alone. There’s no one here for me. _

Against his will, he was reminded of his dad. “So machines are gonna… replace us all? Is that it?”  _ First our jobs. Then our lives themselves.  _

_ Elijah is everywhere I look. And, by association, so is she.  _

Connor stared blankly at him, but his - its -  _ fuck it  _ \- his head tilted ever so slightly, eyebrows raised just so.  _ Interesting, _ he seemed to be thinking.  _ This guy’s an even bigger loser than I thought. Sad sack of shit. _

_ Can androids say ‘shit’? _

“Hey,” Gavin said suddenly, mind already running out of ideas for how to keep the android around him.  _ Stay. I need to see why you’re better.  _

_ You’re the only thing that’s listening to me right now. Keep listening. Keep listening. _

“Bring me a coffee, dipshit.”  _ Jesus fucking Christ, Gav. _

His head tilted again, calculating. His eyes darted to where Gavin’s still-warm coffee sat waiting, then back to the slightly-scrunched face that Gavin knew he was making. Coffee, Gavin, coffee, Gavin. He met his eyes for a beat too long, and when Gavin thought that the thing had opted to ignore him entirely ( _ no, please, listen _ ), Connor turned and walked to the machine. 

Gavin’s eyes widened at Connor’s back as he waited for it to finish.  _ He listened. He listened to me. _

The android turned abruptly, causing Gavin to jump slightly. He could’ve sworn he saw a ghost of a smile pass over Connor’s face, but suddenly he was right in front of him, holding out the coffee, gaze locked with his. His whole expression said one thing:

_ Now, will you leave me the fuck alone? _

Gavin pushed the coffee aside, pushing a finger to Connor’s firm chest.  _ Hard plastic, but it still feels real. _ His voice was down to a rough whisper.  _ Desperate. _

“Do yourself a favor: stay outta my way.”

Gavin walked away, looking to Tina one more time. She must’ve seen the pure self-loathing that was written all over his face, because she took pity on him and followed Gavin out of the break room.

As he stormed out, he thought he saw Connor offer him the coffee one more time.

* * *

Gavin watched Connor walk around the precinct for a little while: talking with Hank, setting up a desk, analyzing files. Before long, he managed to pry himself away from the distractions around him and actually fill out some paperwork from his most recent case. It was nothing interesting - more of an open-and-shut case, but the feeling he got from actually being out in the field was worth the hours of documentation for something that took about thirty minutes.

Throughout the day, though, he would remember Connor’s face. He wondered what he had been thinking when he listened to Gavin.  _ Will this get you off my back? Is this all you wanted? I can do my job now? _

Or maybe, he wasn’t thinking anything at all.  _ A human gave an order.  _

But with the way his eyes were lit, the way his jaw was set, how he held the cup steadily between them, Gavin couldn’t help thinking about how he had  _ listened. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gavin is baffled that someone gives a shit. Pretty relatable tbh.


	5. Hostility

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Do I smell... plot?

On March 30th, Gavin received a rather crudely-taken picture of his dad, posing with a thumbs up in the living room of the house. Next to him in the picture stood a male android with blonde hair and blue eyes, “PL600” glinting prominently on his jacket, a charming grin taking up a large portion of his face.

So, he had done it. 

A small part of him wondered why his father had chosen such an older model of household android. Sure, he had suggested that Neil avoid letting Elijah test a prototype on him, but the AP700 or AX400 would have been completely viable options. Perhaps his dad thought that Gavin didn’t want him having a prototype due to deviant complications with newer models?

He studied the picture closely, paying special attention to the android’s features. 

His - its? -  _ I barely give a fuck anymore _ \- his face was noticably devoid of any sign of pumping blood, the lack of rosy tint on his cheeks causing him to appear washed out and slightly sickly. Though every pore seemed meticulously detailed, there were no eye-catching beauty marks or blemishes, and Gavin’s gaze seemed to pass right over him as if he was a blurry passerby in the background of a large canvas painting. Consciously, he knew that the face he saw smiling next to his father was not a human one, but he was recently finding it more difficult to refer to the plastics as “it” rather than pronouns given to living creatures. He supposed that, in his subconscious, the test of “if it looks like a duck, swims like a duck, and quacks like a duck, it probably is a duck” was being used quite often.  _ If it walks on two legs, wears clothes, and makes coffee, it’s a human. _

Against his better judgement, Gavin couldn’t help but compare his appearance to Connor’s. Cyberlife’s human designs had obviously improved between the releases of the two models; though Connor’s face didn’t carry any flush either, small freckles were dappled sparingly under his eyes, and his complexion carried a slight variation of tone across his face. Where the PL600’s hair was parted flawlessly to the side, tidy and neat, a cowlick of the RK800’s fell softly, perfectly imperfect down the left side of his forehead, slightly similar to Gavin’s own messy locks on his right. Of course, all of those observations couldn’t be truly appreciated from a distance. Lucky for Gavin, he was able to get a very close view of these details in the break room.  _ Something in the way you look at me. A defiance, but the ultimate desire for a truce. _

With a sharp shake of his head, he tried to return his attention to the picture. Attached to the image was a message from his father:

> Say hello to Andrew! 

He ran a hand through his hair, slowly blowing out a breath. He was at work, so he couldn’t add a hole to his wall, even if he wanted to. Which, strangely, he didn’t. Maybe the biting pain in his knuckles that always came directly after and lasted for days later had conditioned him to try to tame his temper in a healthier way. 

Or maybe, just maybe, he was seeing less and less of Elijah in his creations. Less of Mom.

hello, andrew. <

* * *

Gavin was working another late night - technically, an early morning. The clock ticking away on the wall of the office shone a gentle fluorescent light in the otherwise smokey darkness; when no one else was in this area of the building, he preferred to keep the light to a minimum, as his sleep deprivation often came with head-splitting migraines, and he learned from experience that it was quite hard to get up and walk to the switch when he felt like his skull had been struck with a bat. 

It was nearing two in the morning, and Gavin’s report was just about done. Several new pieces of evidence were recently recovered that related to a cold case that he had investigated in December, and his insistence on working alone was rising from the dead to bite him in the ass. He had revisited the crime scene (an old, abandoned police station), all of the previous evidence already removed (an assorted collection of human arms and legs, with one instance of a full torso with no limbs attached), to try to piece together where a piece of new evidence (a photograph of the police station in question, but containing far more body parts than were present when the scene was first discovered) fit in the equation. Sure, it was all very interesting, and Gavin couldn’t help being antsy for the day when it all came together, but his dark-lidded eyes could barely stay open, and there were so many things that  _ could  _ be relevant but probably  _ weren’t  _ relevant but had to go in the report anyway. 

His head was just beginning to droop down against his chest when he heard the slide of the automatic doors at the entrance to the precinct. Gavin’s brain froze for a moment; the dark lighting and his previous solitude caused his first instinct to be to hide, but he quickly shook off the tension that had built in his shoulders and forced himself to relax. Trying to look busy so that the newcomer wouldn’t attempt to start up any meaningless small-talk, he furiously tapped on his keyboard, pressing so hard that even a singular letter caused an echoing  _ click _ to reverberate around the space. 

Footsteps grew louder and louder, crescendoing softly until Gavin could sense the presence of a figure creeping closer to the office. He heard the whir of the security gates accepting his identity, and the  _ chink  _ of the glass door following quickly after. Gavin glanced up from his screen and turned to the sound.

Connor walked slowly into the space, eyes scanning the room while he rubbed his hands together absent-mindedly, looking like a supervillain who had just hatched an evil plot. His gaze was almost immediately drawn to Gavin, whose desk sat almost directly in front of the doors. They stared at each other for a beat before Connor seemed to regain his composure. 

“Detective Reed,” he greeted, calm voice penetrating the pregnant pause. “I am surprised to find you here so early. I was under the impression that it was currently Officer Miller and Officer Chen’s shift, and you were not scheduled to arrive until nine thirty.”

Blinking out of his momentary stupor, Gavin replied, “Chris is out on patrol. I’m covering for Tina - she had some fuckin’ emergency or somethin’.” Muscle memory pulled a familiar sneer onto his face, though his drowsiness caused it to appear half-hearted. 

Connor cocked his head slightly, LED swirling yellow for a split-second as he processed the information. “Are you currently the only one present in the station?” 

Gavin shrugged, turning back around to face his report once more. “Fowler’s creeping around somewhere, but I haven’t seen him in a couple hours. Figure he’s off makin’ calls or somethin’.” He glanced back to the android over his shoulder. “Oh, and I guess you’re here too.” 

His words were slurring together slightly, betraying his lack of a decent night’s sleep. He was far too tired to come up with any decent insults, much less the energy to put any bite into them. Gavin’s fingers dragged across the keys now; the report was finally drawing to a close, but the connections between the evidence had yet to dawn on him.

Connor stood there for a second,  _ probably scanning for my blood type or some shit like that,  _ before turning to the light switch located directly to the right of him. He began to reach for it, but he quickly glanced at the other man before retracting his hand. Gavin watched the moment from the corner of his eye, and he grunted a soft “thanks” before continuing to type. 

He was just finishing the document, relividly hitting “save” and watching the small window of pain shrink down into his taskbar, when Connor walked by. The smell coming off of him was putrid.

“Ugh, dude, what the fuck?!” he coughed, covering his nose and mouth with his hand. “You smell like shit.”

“Your observation is correct. Earlier today, Lieutenant Anderson and I had the unfortunate pleasure of investigating an apartment infested with pigeons. There were several instances of bird droppings covering the room. My apologies; I have not yet had the chance to-” 

Gavin interrupted him. “Yeah, yeah, okay, that’s gross; just stay the fuck away from me until you fix it.”  _ Until. Implying you can come near me again. Shit. _

The android quickly made his way to the far side of the room, disappearing down a hallway towards the bathrooms. 

When he returned, Gavin had put his feet up on the desk and was idly scrolling through his phone with a sour expression. 

On instinct, Gavin looked up as he approached. Connor had changed into a navy DPD hoodie - the kind that were stacked in a storage closet somewhere as backups for officers. His jacket was slung neatly over his forearm as he carried it to the desk he had claimed some number of days back. At the angle Gavin was looking at him, it would be nearly impossible to tell he wasn’t a regular human officer. 

“Didn’t know you were allowed to take that off.” he called, slightly curious. He wasn’t very familiar with any rules or regulations requiring androids to wear the uniforms they were manufactured with, but he had rarely ever seen one without it. 

Connor stopped walking and looked at him for a moment, eyebrows raised slightly in surprise. He hesitated before taking a few steps towards Gavin’s desk, and Gavin noticed that there were flecks of red swirling with the steady yellow of his LED. 

“The American Androids Act requires all androids to bear identifiers in public places to clearly distinguish them from humans, such as my LED, a blue armband and triangle on the front and back of the outfit, and a model number. Unfortunately, I do not yet have a spare change of uniform in the office. I assumed that, because you are the only one present in the precinct, and you are fully aware of my identity as an android, it would not be unreasonable for this,” he gestured to the hoodie, “to serve as a temporary replacement, so as to not bother you with the smell.”

_ Is he… breaking the rules? Could I report this? Should I?  _ Thoughts swam around Gavin’s mind, but he couldn’t think about it for too long before the fog of drowsiness fell once more over his brain. He shrugged. “Whatever,” he growled.

As Connor resumed his walk to his desk, an alert chimed from Gavin’s phone. He looked down to see a notification from Tina.

> I’m really sorry Gav. Val made it sound a lot more serious than it was. I’m heading back to the station now i’ll see you in 40

He threw his head back and groaned loudly, allowing all the air in his lungs to come out slowly. “Goddammit, Chen.” he sighed to no one in particular.

Three minutes later, Connor emerged from the evidence room. Gavin hadn’t even seen him get up from his desk.  _ I’m more out of it than I thought. _ Connor took a seat at his desk and began to do something on his monitor, using the touch screen to scroll through what he assumed to be files. Every so often, Gavin would catch him glancing at him from the corner of his eye. Finally, the android spoke up.

“You have a cat, right?”

Gavin’s head shot up from where it had been resting on the back of his chair. “Who the fuck told you that?”

“There’s cat hair on your jacket. A Russian Blue, correct?” Connor was now looking directly at him - a small, friendly smile on his plastic face.  _ He’s trying to get on my good side. _

It was working. Gavin loved talking about his cat.

He tried to stay quiet in fear of starting an actual conversation with the tin can, but just as the smile was fading from Connor’s lips, he responded, “Yeah. Named her Lard, ‘cuz she’s a fat piece of shit,” An unbidden grin was trying to creep onto his face as he pictured her lounging belly-up on his couch as they spoke.

“I’ve never met a cat. I think I’d like them though; they’re quiet and like to sleep a lot, so I’m sure they make for good company,” Connor continued.

Gavin snorted. “They either love ya or hate ya.” He looked over to the android, grinning. “But they usually go nuts for plastic, so I’m sure you’d do great.”  _ Was that… even an insult? _

He dropped the smile from his face and cleared his throat. Burying his face in his arms on the desk, he mumbled, “Okay, now shut up.”

* * *

Gavin Reed ^

Connor was pleased with itself. It had been nervous to discover that Detective Reed would be alone with it, as it knew that the officer was prone to violence (judging from the incident in the interrogation room), and it would be a shame to have to be replaced over a non-case-related incident, especially one that would further harm its relationship with the man. Luckily, Reed’s sleep deprivation and lack of energy made him significantly less dangerous to be around. Connor had even dared to start up a conversation with him, leading to an extremely unexpected increase in their relationship. 

As it watched Gavin rest peacefully on his desk, it contemplated waking him.  _ He is here to cover Officer Chen’s shift. He shouldn’t be sleeping in the case of an emergency.  _

But it couldn’t. It would ruin the important steps that had just been taken, and Reed obviously needed the rest; Connor had estimated that he had gotten around 5 hours of sleep in the past three days. Even in the case of emergency, Reed wouldn’t be in any state to handle it. After depositing its jacket in a laundromat across the street, Connor snuck one last look at the sleeping man, sat down at its desk, and entered stasis.

* * *

“Wow. Leave you two alone for a couple hours, and you’re already sleeping together.”

Gavin woke with a start at Tina’s voice ringing through the quiet office. He pulled his head from his arms, trying to process what she had just said. “He- I- wha-” he stuttered, looking down at himself in confusion.

“Over there,” Tina chuckled, jamming a thumb towards where Connor was sitting at his desk, eyes closed and body unmoving. 

“Oh,” Gavin murmured sleepily, eyes already threatening to shut. “Didn’t know he slept.”

“I don’t,” came a voice from the other side of the room. Connor’s eyes had opened and were now looking at the two of them, glinting with something like amusement. “It’s simply a power-saving mode I can enter and exit at will.”

Gavin only hummed, forehead already touching the desk. Tina poked him with her index finger. “You still have time to go home and get some real sleep, Gav.” 

The man groaned, picking himself up. “Yep, yep. You’re right,” he sighed. He turned his half-lidded gaze to Tina. “You owe me one, asshole.” 

The woman nodded, laughing silently to herself. “See you later today.” 

Connor stood from where he had been frozen at his desk. “Detective Reed, if I may, you are far too tired to drive in this state. I would suggest taking an automated taxi to return home.”

Gavin stopped his walk to the door and groaned again. “I drove here, “ he muttered, “so I’d hafta pay the fare to get home, and then I’d hafta pay the fare again to get here later. Shut your bitchass mouth, plastic. I’m fine.” He tried to confidently walk to the door, only stumbling a handful of times before Tina grabbed his arm, smiling mischievously. 

“Connor’s right, Gavin,” she said brightly. “Say, Connor, why don’t  _ you _ drive him home?”

“No,” Gavin retorted flatly, attempting to pull his arm from her grasp.

“It would be no trouble of mine, Detective. I have nothing else to be working on until Lieutenant Anderson arrives later today,” Connor piped up. He tried to stretch his mouth in a wide smile, but it looked a little painful on him.

“C’mon, Gav. I would be really pissed to find out you kicked the bucket in the front seat of a Ford Focus instead of an epic shootout between you and some mob boss.” She nudged his shoulder with her own.

“... he’s gonna try to kill me.”

“I assure you, Detective, it is never my intention to cause you harm.”

Gavin snorted, but ran a hand through his hair defeatedly. He threw the keys at the android, who caught them deftly in one hand. Without a word, he lumbered out of the station, Connor following close behind.

* * *

The car ride was extremely quiet. Gavin fought to stay awake, keeping an eye on the android in the driver’s seat.  _ Try it, I dare you. _

After they had been driving for about three minutes, Gavin noticed that Connor had changed back into his usual uniform, devoid of any pungent odor. 

“When’d you wash that?” he murmured.

Connor glanced at him, then down at his own jacket. “I used the laundromat near the station while you were asleep,” he replied, his voice softer and quieter in the small space.

Gavin grunted in acknowledgement. He leaned against the window, trying to keep his eyes open as he watched the darkened city run alongside the car. 

“May I ask you a personal question, Detective?” Connor’s voice was hesitant, but gentle.

But Gavin had already given into the pulls of sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tried to make this chapter longer; hopefully the quality didn't suffer.


	6. April Showers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steps taken - forwards and backwards. Their waltz continues.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm finally getting to take advantage of switching the months in which the actual story happens. Hooray, plot convenience!  
> Also, I had to change the rating because I realized how much I was swearing. Sorry about that.

April had come, unnoticed and unappreciated. 

Rain was never a good thing in Gavin’s line of work; it washed away tracks, bloodstains, and visible fingerprints. Thunder could cover the sound of gunshots, and the lack of sunlight made pursuing criminals an extremely difficult task. 

Nevertheless, Gavin couldn’t help but enjoy it.

He wasn’t a huge fan of the gentle pitter-patter of spare and quiet droplets that fell from the clouds like loose change from someone’s wallet. No, Gavin enjoyed the large, angry storms - the ones that gave you a flash-flood warning on your phone, the ones that made the streets look like creeks, the ones that boomed and banged and cried at the top of their lungs, “ _ I am here! _ ” The best nights were when Gavin was home after a long day of inspecting scenes and talking to witnesses, reclined on the couch with Lard spread out across his chest. Maybe the Gears were playing on the TV, and Carter was shooting three-pointers every minute, the glow from the screen the only thing illuminating the cozy living room. Then, Gavin would hear the thunder, the distant drum of the rain waking. It would start soft, like small footsteps in a hallway trying not to make the floorboards creak. And then, all at once, as if under the instruction of a conductor commencing an orchestra, it would pour. Gavin would push the cat off of his body to open the blinds that were so often shut tight and private, standing at the window for a minute or two, watching the world around him grow darker and darker still. He’d return to the couch, and Lard would instantly forgive and forget the previous injustice by crawling back onto him. 

And he could sit and listen to nothing but the storm pelting against his house, the ground, and everything else and feel like the only person in the world.

So April was good.

However, on this cloudy April morning, Gavin was frozen with mortification. 

* * *

There was someone calling his name - it was soft, with no hint of exasperation or fear. It must be a stranger or something; they were calling him “Detective”.  _ Am I investigating something? _ The world around him was dark, with splotches of orange that faded in and out of his vision. To his left, a blue hue pulsed gently, beckoning. 

“Gavin.”

He opened his eyes to find Connor looking at him inquisitively. Gavin was still for a moment before he felt his face heat in embarrassment. “What the fuck?” he half-whispered, half-hissed at the android in the driver’s seat of his car.

“We have arrived at your house, Detective Reed. The time is 3:17 AM,” Connor reported, peering at him expectantly. When he made no sign of moving, the android tilted his head. “Do you… require assistance walking to your door?”

_ This is the absolute fucking worst.  _ “Not a fuckin’ chance.” He opened the car door, scrambled out, and slammed it shut. Only then did he realize that it had begun to rain while he was sleeping. It wasn’t a particularly heavy downpour; in fact, it was really only a drizzle. But darker clouds were rolling in overhead, and Gavin heard the quiet rumble of crouching thunder. Tonight would be a good night - er, morning. 

He didn’t notice that the android had climbed out as well until he heard the door shut gently ( _ gently, gently, everything gently _ ) behind him. “I have ordered a taxi for myself; it should arrive in fifteen minutes or so.” The android glanced at him then, as both of them were looking up at the sky, observing the rain. Connor smiled - small, soft, genuine.  _ Gentle. _

Gavin cleared his throat nonchalantly. “‘Kay,” he replied stiffly, and promptly walked to his front door. 

He didn’t care. He didn’t care that the android had gone out of his way to drive him home. He didn’t care that it was raining on him. Even as he subtly looked back at the drenched machine sitting calmly on the sidewalk, drizzle turning to a steady pour, he didn’t care. He tried to turn the knob to enter his house and forget about the entire situation, but something stopped him. Made him turn around and walk to the sidewalk where the android was sitting, squatting to be eye-level with him. 

“Keys.”

Connor blinked at him once, something slow and brief. His eyes had been alight with something so akin to hope, but they had returned to their normal unbothered position. He reached into his pant pocket and retrieved the silver ring, pressing it into Gavin’s outstretched cold palm, maintaining eye contact with the man the entire time. Gavin stood and turned.

_ Fuck. _

“.... D’ya wanna come and meet my cat?”

He did.

Connor said nothing about his house, or his decor, or any pile of mess that happened to be about. He stood quietly as Gavin disappeared into the kitchen, making no indication of moving without Gavin’s permission. Only when the man returned with the large loaf of cat did Connor make any sound at all.

He giggled - it was quiet and only lasted for a split second. The grin on his face was ear-splitting, eyes trained on the animal lounging in Gavin’s arms. Still, he made no move to get any closer.

Gavin waited for the android to approach him before rolling his eyes and stepping closer until they were only a few inches apart. Gavin’s jaw was clenched, his brow was furrowed, and his body was tense all over, showing his obvious discomfort at having Connor in his space, but he had allowed it.  _ It wasn’t kindness, it was pity. It’s not a “thank you”.  _ He tried to keep his gaze fixed on Lard, who had wiggled her way into Connor’s chest, but he couldn’t help but glance at the warm, fuzzy expression that had overtaken that cold, determined face. 

“She likes you,” he informed him casually, taking off his shoes and jacket. He’d have to change into a fresh pair of clothes later if he didn’t want to return to work dripping wet. 

Lard was less worried about staying dry; she rubbed against Connor’s wet clothes, chirping happily at the extra attention. He scratched her head and along her spine, causing her to rumble with pleasure in his arms. 

Gavin had thrown himself on the couch, not wanting to concern himself with the android any more than he already had. “Leave when your cab gets here,” he called, a tad haughtily. 

“Of course, Detective.”

And when the car pulled in front of his house, Connor placed the cat on the ground and left with a final, “Good night, Gavin.”

He should be pissed at himself. He should be upset and uncomfortable. He should be screaming  _ why the fuck did I do that  _ into a pillow. But he wasn’t. He didn’t. He was tired.

* * *

And five hours later, Gavin was struck with the horrible feeling that he had made a huge mistake. 

He had let an android into his home and, consequently,  _ Elijah _ into his home. And by letting Elijah into his home, he had made way for  _ her.  _ For her to beg for another second chance, a third, a fourth, until they all blended together, and she stopped asking. No more “sorry”s. No more “I still love you”s. No more excuses that she knew he didn’t believe. 

She was going to build him up just to tear him back down again. Just like before. 

_ No more androids. Nothing to retie the connection.  _

He blocked Elijah on his contacts. Reaching out had been a mistake.

* * *

He was late to work for the first time in a while; psyching himself back up had taken longer than anticipated, not to mention his much-needed shower. Then, he had tried to climb into his car, but all he could think about was Connor’s  _ stupid fucking plastic face, smug ass motherfucker  _ sitting in his seat, delicate fingers curled around the wheel, full attention on Gavin.  _ He listens to me. He listens, and he cares, even though he can’t because he doesn’t feel - does he? He doesn’t. _

_ No more androids. _

And eventually, he buried whatever had been beginning to surface. He buried warm, chocolate brown eyes, tilted heads, ear-splitting grins. He buried cold stares, horrible-smelling jackets, and an offer of coffee.  _ Fuck this shit.  _ When the plastic prick inevitably took the jobs of every human officer at the DPD, Gavin wasn’t planning on being one of the sorry bastards patting his back on a job-well-done.

When Gavin did finally manage to get to work, he was filled with the same determination he had felt when he received the email stating that Connor had been assigned to his precinct: a handful of anger, a hint of resignation, and a shit-ton of stubbornness. This time, however, he wouldn’t allow himself to be stapled to his desk. And, luckily for him, since he had finished his report on the cold case that likely wasn’t going to go anywhere for another six months, he would be next on the rotation.

He tried to be as patient as possible, but he couldn’t stop bouncing around; he would visit the evidence locker four times an hour, as if he would unearth a long-hidden secret by staring at the assortment of photographs and bloodied drug paraphernalia. Chris, his desk neighbor, kept glancing at him worriedly. He had seen this behavior arise in Gavin many times before, and it certainly made the days more interesting, but he was worried about the burnout that would inevitably come after. Eventually, the wheels in Gavin’s head would rust and stop turning, and he would stare at the same spot on his desk for hours at a time. Then, he would drink enough coffee to put himself into a catatonic state. Then, back to Gavin the Asshole, Destroyer of Moods and Menace of Break Rooms. Perhaps a month or two later, something would happen to get him riled up again, and the cycle would continue. It was quite vicious, really, but Chris supposed that, hey, he was a great detective when he was able to be. Let him do what he’s gotta do.

As the evening sunset fell prey to the inky darkness of the starless Detroit sky, opportunity fell into Gavin’s lap.

“Reed! My office, now!” Fowler’s cry rang from his fishbowl. The captain liked to keep his announcements straight and to-the-point, so the summoning could mean any number of things. He could be getting fired, or there’d been another complaint about the volume of the music in his headphones, or his entire family had been murdered and he was getting the day off (but be back tomorrow), or… 

He was getting assigned a case.

* * *

It was almost 8 PM when Gavin arrived at the Eden Club. To no one’s surprise, it was raining again; the droplets were fat and hit almost like hail, but the quantity at which they came down was low. He pulled his hood up over his head, which wasn’t really a problem for him considering he didn’t really want his face (or any part of him, for that matter) to be associated with an android sex club. As he crossed through the holographic police tape, Gavin read the large screen displayed down the hallway: “Sexiest androids in town”. He huffed and kept moving, trying to keep a low-profile. 

As he walked through the doors, he wasn’t prepared for the several pairs of eyes that turned towards him seductively, half-lidded and sparkling. The androids in the pods were all nearly naked and swaying softly. Some were pressed against the glass, a smile playing on their lips, as if they were a caged animal that wanted nothing more than to be released so they could consume Gavin whole. He tried to suppress his shudder, but he couldn’t help but stare at the contained figures. Perfectly shaped, molded, and shined to make what some repressed nerd at Cyberlife thought was everyone’s idea of an “ideal partner”. Even as he entered the club, he couldn’t seem to keep his eyes from locking with another’s. While he was distracted, his shoulder collided with something roughly. 

“Shit, fuck-” he grumbled as he stepped back from whatever he had run into.

He was face to face with another android - once with blue hair and brown eyes, most likely from the club, considering her near-bareness. The LED on her temple was spinning blue, but there seemed to be flecks of red that would occasionally flash into the cycle. At the rate at which she had crashed into him, she seemed to have been moving pretty fast. 

“I’m terribly sorry about that, sir,” she smiled politely, but there still seemed to be something off. “I seem to have lost track of my current master.”

Gavin unconsciously twitched with discomfort at the title.  _ Master. _ “Yeah, whatever,” he grumbled, still side-eyeing her suspiciously. He knew that there was something strange about the android, but he really just wanted her out of his space. In the distance, he spotted Ben talking to another man next to a club door labeled “OCCUPIED”. “You didn’t happen to see, uh, anything weird going on in that room over there, did you?”

The android’s smile didn’t leave her face, but her LED was filled with a deep red as soon as the words left his mouth. “No, sir,” she said sweetly. “I was with my master.”

Gavin watched as she turned and sashayed away from him, off deeper into the club. Hopefully he’d have a chance to do some more questioning with her later. For now, he just needed to see the crime scene. 

Chris came up beside him after Gavin had given Ben a curt greeting. “This room here, Ben?” Chris asked, gesturing to the door closest to them, voice ever-friendly. 

Ben simply nodded, keeping a careful eye on Gavin. He had had the unfortunate pleasure to have seen some of the best of Gavin’s work and the absolute worst of it. “Watch your step in there,” was all he said as the two of them entered the room.

The two men’s noses wrinkled as soon as they entered the room. The scene was both perverted and grotesque - a large man whose lower half was (thankfully) wrapped in blankets was sprawled out on a large, circular bed. His face was pale and lifeless, mouth slightly open in what appeared to be shock. “Nasty,” they said in unison - Gavin with a small chuckle, and Chris with slight nausea. 

He stepped closer to the man on the bed, almost recoiling at the strong smell of sex that wafted off of him. Chris followed close behind him, covering his nose and mouth with his hand. “Damn, check out that bruising,” Gavin commented, gesturing to the deep purple marks that appeared in splotches on the corpse’s neck. 

“Asphyxiation? But the android would have already been busted… ?” Chris pondered.

Gavin shrugged. “There’s always the chance he just liked it rough. I’d say cardiac arrest is more likely.” He frowned, looking to the android that lay broken on the floor, a few feet away from the bed. “I guess after he broke it, he…” Gavin trailed off. How would he have ended up on the bed?

Suddenly, the door behind him reopened. He turned to see Anderson slowly walking into the room, Connor following diligently behind. The sharp smell of alcohol hung around the lieutenant.

_ Fuck. I’m really not in the mood for this. _

“Lieutenant Anderson and his plastic pet,” he greeted coolly, turning back to face the scene. “The fuck are you two doing here?”  _ This is  _ my  _ case.  _ My  _ chance. _

“We’ve been assigned all cases involving androids.” Connor responded, almost equally neutral. When Gavin looked back at him, his eyes were already scanning his surroundings. But when they did glance up to look at him, there was a question in his eyes. He was trying to decipher him, like everything he said was a new riddle.  _ Good. Never figure me out. _

“Oh yeah?” he replied a little sarcastically, still making eye contact. “Well, you’re wasting your time.”  _ Get out of here. I’m figuring it out on my own. _ “Just some pervert who, uh, got more action than he could handle.” Gavin tried to make his laugh genuine, but he knew it sounded forced.  _ There’s more to it, and they already know it. _ Chris refused to look at him, keeping his eyes trained on the body.

“We’ll have a look anyway, if you don’t mind.” Anderson’s voice was distant and without bite.  _ Damn, he really is drunk, isn’t he? _

Gavin scoffed, trying to appear nonchalant.  _ There it goes. My one fucking chance. Fuck all of this. _ “Come on, let’s go,” he told Chris. As he strode towards the door, he added, “it’s, uh,”  _ I can’t help it. You ruin everything. _ “starting to stink of booze in here.”

For a split-second as he passed Hank, he found Connor’s eyes again. His mouth was downturned in a frown, and his brows were raised. Confusion. Hurt. He began to tilt his head.

_ No. Fuck you, too.  _ He shoulder-checked him as he walked out the door.

And that’s when he remembered the blue-haired android. 

As soon as he walked out, he headed in the direction that the android had sped off in. 

“Uh, Gavin?” Chris called behind him, voice laced with concern. “Where are you going?”

He stopped dead in his tracks when he realized that, to Chris, he was just willingly heading deeper into an android sex club instead of bolting out like a normal person. “It’s not what it looks like!” he argued, face a little flushed. “I saw someone suspicious head down this way before we went in the room!”

_ That sounds fake as all fuck. _

Chris just stared at him before shrugging and shaking his head. “You do you, man,” he called as he walked towards the exit. _ Lucky bastard. _

Gavin resumed his hunt, but it was more short-lived than he had anticipated. There was no way for him to know where she had gone after walking into the circular room that he found himself in. “DId you happen to see a blue-haired android come this way a few minutes ago?” he asked a janitor mopping the floor of the room. 

The android looked up at him in hesitant confusion. “There are several androids that fit that description, sir,” he reported. “In the past fifteen minutes, I have seen three models with blue hair come into this room.” 

Gavin groaned with annoyance. He returned to the main hallway just in time to see Anderson paying for a sexbot.

Wait.

Gavin watched as the android stepped out of its pod sensually. Before she could say a word, however, Connor grabbed her arm.

_ What the actual fuck is happening. _

The skin on Connor’s hand changed into a soft white, and his eyes flickered for a moment before turning to the exit. “It went this way,” Gavin heard him say to Hank, frustrated. “The blue-haired Traci may have already left the building.”

_ Oh shit. They’re tracking Blue-y too. _

“She didn’t,” he called out to them, tone serious. Approaching them, he continued, “She was on her way out, but she ran into me. Said she was looking for her ‘master’, but she seemed freaked out. She couldn’t leave without looking suspicious, so she turned and headed down that way,” he pointed to where he had come from, “but I lost her after that.”

The two others blinked at him for a moment, surprised by his sudden shift in attitude. Connor shook it off faster.

“I can probe the memories of the androids in the room,” he informed him, face bright and intense. 

Hank and Gavin followed Connor as he tracked the Traci’s trail. Gavin giggled silently to himself whenever Hank purchased an android. “You wanna help out the case, Gavin?” Anderson growled when he noticed his amusement, indicating towards the still-trapped android. He was silent after that.

Eventually, Connor led them to a “staff only” door, which led to a white brick hallway with a regular swinging door at the end. Hank exchanged glances with the other two before drawing his gun (Gavin following suit) and cracking open the door.

They emerged into a warehouse-like space, with lines of androids along the walls and miscellaneous equipment scattered around. “Shit, we’re too late,” Anderson cursed, jogging towards the back. 

Gavin inspected the shelving on the far side of the room; there were small packages placed neat and uniform together, filling the entire thing.  _ Blue blood, maybe? In case another pleasure casualty happens? _

“Christ, look at them,” he heard Hank call from where he stood, peering at the rows and columns of lifeless androids. “They get used ‘til they break, then they get tossed out… “

Neither Gavin nor Connor responded.

A minute or two passed, the three of them walking slowly around the warehouse, waiting to detect any movement or loud noise. Finally, Anderson huffed again, startling them. “People are fuckin’ insane,” he droned. “They don’t want relationships anymore; everybody just gets an android. They cook when you want, they screw when you want, you don’t have to worry about how they feel… ” 

Gavin shrugged good-naturedly, but his eyes still prowled around the space. “Sounds pretty decent, to be honest.” He looked up and made eye contact with Connor, which seemed to be a running theme of the day. He felt his face heat up immensely at that curious gaze again. “But I’d die before putting my dick anywhere near one of those perverted plastic pricks,” he added, stammering slightly. His eyes returned to the floor. 

Hank continued on, oblivious to Gavin’s embarrassment. “Next thing you know, we’re gonna be extinct because everybody would rather buy a piece of plastic than love another human being.”

Another minute passed. Then, the fighting broke out. 

Gavin heard Connor’s grunt first and spun around to see him grappling with a very-much-awake android. The face was exactly the same as the other’s, but her hair was cut short and mousey brown.  _ Same model, different android. _

Hank ran over with his gun, managing to shout “Don’t move!” before getting tackled to the ground by their original target: the one with blue hair.

Gavin looked between his two companions. Hank had stood up and had Traci 1 against a wall, while Connor was pinned under the other, attempting to fight off her barrage of punches.  _ Fuck it, he’s closer anyway. _

He ran up behind Traci 2 just as she grabbed a screwdriver off of the floor next to them, holding it above her head, ready to strike down. Without much thought, Gavin grabbed the weapon from her grasp and launched it across the room. Startled by the movement, Traci 2 paused, giving Connor enough of a window to kick her off of him. Gavin tried to hit her over the head with the butt of his handgun, but she slid underneath him and pushed him from behind, the momentum from his previous attempt causing him to fall over completely. On his knees, he saw the brown-haired android preparing to kick him over the head, but Connor grabbed her in a headlock and pulled her from behind, allowing Gavin to gain his footing. 

Nearby, Hank was losing against Traci 1. She had thrown him against a different wall, and they grappled together while Connor and Traci 2 struggled for control over…  _ another screwdriver? Seriously? _

Gavin watched Connor attempt to knock over one of the large yellow shelves to block his attacker off, but she was smoothly countering his every move. Leaping over the metal table to where they were fighting, Gavin tried to jump on the back of Traci 2, wrapping his arms around her neck. But he had made too much noise. 

Traci was ready for him this time, spinning around to land a successful kick to his chest. As he fell off the table backwards, he saw that his head was headed directly for the large desk stationed next to it.  _ Oh, fuck. _

He heard a loud crack, and then he blacked out. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ouch.  
> Anyway, I also wanna say a huge thanks to anyone reading this story; the hits and kudos and comments I get really make my day. I sincerely hope you're enjoying it.


	7. Feeling Worse and Feeling Better

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I don't really remember writing this one, so I'm sorry if it sucks. We're gonna get some actual psychological growth soon!

Gavin wished he could say that he had been passed out for the rest of his time in the warehouse. He wished he was unconscious while stepping out of the Eden Club, and he  _ really _ wished he was unresponsive in the ambulance. 

In reality, he woke up on the floor.

His head felt incredibly foggy, like he was watching himself in third-person. Somehow, the metal table he’d jumped over had ended up on top of him, which would explain why he felt like he had been hit by a train going 130 mph. From where he was, he couldn’t see Anderson or Connor anywhere, but he could still hear the sounds of a struggle, albeit distantly.

As Gavin tried to shift the metal off of himself, he let out an involuntary cry of pain through his teeth, high-pitched and loud. His ribs were almost definitely bruised, and his splitting headache wasn’t doing him any favors, but he had to try.

Pushing weakly on the table pinning him down, he managed to slide it delicately off of his torso. As he slowly pulled himself up, he saw blood pooling around where his head had previously laid. Reaching up to touch the back of his head, he felt his wet hair stick to his scalp in matted clumps around the point of impact.  _ Fuck. Stitches, probably. _ Avoiding touching the sore spot directly, he carefully brought his hand back and tried to stand up.

To say that the room was spinning would be an understatement; everything around him had suddenly doubled or tripled in quantity, including his own hands. Gavin tried to allow himself a minute to regain his senses, but the sound of voices coming from his left forced him to push through the pain.

He only had to take a few shaky steps towards the large garage opening before he saw the scene.

Traci 1 and 2 were standing too close to the fence for comfort. Connor was pushing himself off the ground, presumably after being pushed down by one of the aggressors. Hank stood to his right, but he showed no signs of continuing his attack. In fact, the hostility seemed to have disappeared from the environment, leaving behind a sense of somber unease. 

Hank looked back at Gavin as he stumbled closer, but as he reached for his gun with trembling hands, Hank shook his head. His eyes darted towards Connor, who was fixated on the two deviants. The lieutenant held Gavin’s gaze for a moment longer before turning back to the androids, his posture relaxing.

“I begged him to stop, but he wouldn’t.” The blue-haired Traci was growling at Connor. She still looked furious, but all the tension had fallen from her shoulders, and Gavin didn’t feel any threat in her tone. “So I put my hands around his throat… and I squeezed… until he stopped moving.”

_ So, she  _ had _ done it. More abuse leading to the unstable state.  _ He glanced at the other android, not particularly sure how she fit into it. She didn’t seem to have sustained any blood-inducing injuries, and… well, Gavin supposed she wouldn’t bruise anyway. 

“I didn’t mean to kill him.” 

His attention was pulled back to Traci 1, whose voice was now shaking slightly. The brown-haired android was creeping forwards, but it didn’t seem to be threatening or aggressive. It was careful, cautious, and her eyes never left the other Traci’s face. 

“I just wanted to stay alive,” she continued. “And get back… to the one I love.”

The two androids’ hands linked together. Standing side-by-side, they looked around at each one of the officers. When their gaze landed on Gavin, he felt a shiver creep up the back of his spine.

There was an overwhelming amount of raw emotion painted on their faces. He saw terror, pure terror, but there was also resignation. Hope. Determination. Something like… knowing? Understanding? 

And love. There it was, plain as day. They turned to each other, and they softened in that way that lovers do. When the world around them fades for a moment, and it becomes just the two of them, communicating everything with gentle eyes and tiny smiles. They leaned towards each other, just unconsciously drifting closer because even their bodies know that things are better when they’re near. 

He didn’t even realize that Traci 1 had begun to talk again until Hank’s small step forwards brought him out of his stupor. 

“... and their dirty words.”

No one dared to move then. Everyone waited for a sudden tense of muscle, a dart towards the exit, a quiet exchange of words. 

“Come on,” Traci 2 finally said to the other. “Let’s go.”

And the officers watched as they climbed the fence and ran away. 

Hank’s voice rang out amongst the silence that had descended upon the trio. “It’s probably better this way… “ he mused, staring at Connor curiously. 

The android’s eyes darted from Hank to the fence and back, LED spinning a frantic yellow. He looked perplexed and confused, but there was a hint of something more. Of understanding, or realization. 

Gavin took a hesitant step back as Hank approached him. 

“For fuck’s sake, you look like a kicked puppy,” Anderson grumbled, but his eyes were glinting with something like happiness. “You fell, right? You feel okay?”

That seemed to snap Connor out of the trace that he had fallen in. He briskly walked over to where they were standing, brushing past Hank to come face-to-face with Gavin. Well, more like face-to-neck.  _ Man, fuck this. _

“Lieutenant,” Connor called, not taking his eyes off of Gavin. “Please go ahead to rendezvous with Detective Collins. I have already called an ambulance for Detective Reed, and I will assist him in walking when it arrives.”

“Woah, woah, hey,” Gavin snapped, words overlapping slightly with the android’s. “I don’t-”

“Detective Reed, please spit directly onto the ground in front of you,” Connor said, volume almost bordering a mumble.  _ Is he… chastising me? _

“You’re fuckin’ demented.”

The android just stared back, expectant. Gavin absently noticed that Hank had already left the warehouse.

His face contorted into something that felt like a grimace and a snarl, but he was feeling too unnerved by Connor’s steady gaze on him. It made his whole body tense and puff out his chest defensively.

He spit.

It was thick and red, and there was a lot of it.

_ Oh. _

They were silent for a beat, just staring at the mix of blood and saliva, before Connor brought his eyes back up to Gavin. 

“I would like to thank you, Gavin.”

His brain barely registered the words before his head snapped up to face him again. “For… spitting?”

The bucket of bolts had the audacity to smile at that. Genuine. Wide. Cute.  _ … what. _

“For assisting me in the fight. I realize that you don’t like me very much, so I appreciate that we were able to work so well together.”

Gavin couldn’t do much besides blink. “‘S part of the job,  _ detective. _ ” He said the title sarcastically, but it failed to hold any bite. “Don’t go getting all soft and shit.”

He tried to turn to leave before quickly remembering why he hadn’t been moving in the first place. A pathetic sob tore free from his lips.

Clasping his hand over his mouth and trying to take a deep breath (which only made it worse), he felt Connor worriedly slide up beside him. 

“You have broken a rib, Detective, and several others are bruised,” the android said gently, holding out an arm for him to grab onto. “If you’re not careful, you run the risk of puncturing a vital organ.”

Against his every cognitive instinct, Gavin grabbed his shoulder and felt the arm curl around him carefully. 

“Just gimme a second,” Gavin gritted out, eyes squeezing shut.

They stayed in that position for longer than Gavin would like to admit; his left hand was clasped firmly on the android’s right shoulder, while Connor’s right hand was gently resting against Gavin’s left hip. The whole thing felt way too intimate for his taste, but he had no choice as he waited for the agonizing pain in his abdomen to fade away. 

Logically, Gavin knew that Connor didn’t have a heartbeat. However, the methodical  _ bump-bump _ that Cyberlife had given him was almost comforting to Gavin in a strange, unconscious way. Warmth sprouted from where Connor’s hand found his hip, even though he had no muscle or metabolism. The gentle rise and fall of the android’s shoulders could convince anyone that he needed air to survive, but no real oxygen went in or out. 

_ All of this effort to make them exactly like us,  _ he thought as the discomfort lifted.  _ But more effort still to convince us that they aren’t. _

* * *

Gavin was warm, startlingly so.

Connor watched the man try to compose himself through the pain he was feeling. There were tons of things that Connor could analyze while this close to the detective, but it felt that Gavin wouldn’t appreciate being studied while in his vulnerable state. 

It did allow itself to keep an eye on the man’s heart rate, which was currently pumping at 153 bpm. That was no real surprise; the adrenaline from the fight must still be coursing through his veins. 

Gavin smelled like vanilla wax, sweat, and leather. Gavin’s hair... no. No analyzing. 

* * *

“Detective Reed?”

Gavin only nodded, pushing himself up straighter with the help of Connor’s shoulder support. They slowly made their way out of the club together, having to explain to one too many employees that “yes, the premises is currently safe” and “no, we don’t need any help, there’s an ambulance waiting outside”. 

Hank was standing with Ben, idly chatting. As soon as Connor and Gavin emerged through the police tape, the paramedics that had previously been waiting outside descended upon him like wolves, removing him from Connor’s arms and trying to gently corral him onto the stretcher they had parked in front of the ambulance doors. 

His face was burning with shame again as his fellow detectives watched the EMTs man-handle him onto the bed on wheels.  _ Embarrassing as fuck. _ Two paramedics were looking over Hank for any sustained injuries but, surprisingly, the man seemed to have held his own rather well against the brown-haired Traci. 

“FUCK!” he cried as a medic pressed a hand against the back of his head. “Found out where the blood was coming from, did you, genius?” He glared at them as they dropped their hand, looking pretty indifferent to his outburst. 

As he was being strapped to the bed, Gavin caught Connor’s eye one last time. The expression on his face was strange, and he couldn’t read it from where he was currently laying. With his one free arm, he gave the android a lazy salute before the medics rolled him into the back of the van and drove him to the hospital.

_ Maybe he’ll come. _

* * *

They had cut off his shirt in the back of the ambulance.

Gavin hadn’t even had time to register what was happening. About four paramedics were seated around him, all either observing him closely or watching his heart rate on the monitor. One of them had suddenly held up a pair of scissors, quickly turning to him and saying, “I’m going to cut your shirt off, okay?”

Gavin’s brain wasn’t really fully aware of what was happening, so he just started laughing awkwardly. Before he knew it, his poor green V-neck was sitting in a bin in the corner of the vehicle. They were gentler about the jacket though, carefully maneuvering his arms out of the sleeves and setting it on one of the open seats. 

Though, now that his shirt was off, Gavin could plainly see the damage that the android had done to him.

There was an imprint of the edge of a high-heel shoe on his chest, which Gavin was most pissed about because it made him feel like he’d just been kicked out of a shitty motel by a girlfriend of two months. Looking further downwards, the damage got a lot worse. A long purple and yellow mark covered the majority of his right side, and there was a small bump on his midsection that wasn’t there last time he checked. That medic was reaching for his head again, and the rest were poking and prodding at his torso, each touch sending a jolt of fire down his body.

_ Grit your teeth and bear it. They’re trying to help. _

The hospital was more pleasant, since Gavin couldn’t really remember much of it. He did remember staples going into his head, which would’ve been a lowlight if not for the chocolate pudding he was permitted to eat while they did it. His ribs were mostly left alone; he remembered something about ice packs and elevation while he slept, but he mostly just translated “ _ take some Ibuprofen and shut the fuck up _ ”.

Gavin was released from the hospital room almost as soon as he was given his third ice pack of the night, but he was told that he was allowed to sleep there if he wanted to. He really didn’t, but the thought of sitting in one of those creepy automated taxis in the dark didn’t quite fill him with excitement. On the other hand, he wouldn’t be able to sleep knowing that Lard had been home alone for over 12 hours. Taking a careful breath, he was preparing to leave the cold room when his phone buzzed with a message alert.

> Detective Reed, this is Connor. Visiting hours in the hospital are over, but I have been told that you’ve already been released. I would be happy to give you a ride home if you haven’t already made other arrangements. 

He groaned involuntarily, struck with the sudden memory of the last time he had taken a car ride with Connor. On the other hand, the android had been more tolerable than usual lately, and the bad feelings had started to dissipate when he was around him. The ones that made him see Elijah, the genius. The ones that made him see his mother, watching with blank eyes as her husband and his son drove away. The ones that made him see Elijah in his room, teary-eyed, making his first AI because the only other alternative was talking to his mother, and she hadn’t given him dinner in two weeks, and he didn’t know what he did wrong.

Gavin shook his head, fast at first and then more carefully as the crack in his head protested and the sudden movement. He was spiraling, and he knew it. What mattered was that the feelings had dulled to a distant mumble. After years of trying to push it down, he supposed that the suppression was finally working.  _ Don’t think, don’t feel. _

yeah that sounds good. text me when you’re here. <

The response was almost immediate.

> I am standing in the waiting room now. Don’t rush yourself.

The message pulled an unbidden smile onto his face. “Don’t rush yourself.”  _ What the fuck would I be doing? _

He changed into his street clothes, maybe rushing a little. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if the ambulance scene was weird; I actually just purely based it off my weird experience with a hospital visit lol. I had a concussion, and I genuinely thought they were joking when they said they were going to cut my shirt off. It was a custom shirt too, so RIP (literally). 
> 
> Another huge thanks to anyone reading. Y'all are the sweetest.


	8. Confronting the Past

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Don't bottle up emotions; glass is far too fragile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dunno if I've mentioned this, but I write CyberLife as Cyberlife because I think it looks nicer. It's purely stylistic, and I'm sorry if that's been bugging anyone lol.
> 
> Edit: I really forgot to name the chapter lmao. I come up with the titles on the fly (if that isn't obvious).

The scrubs that Gavin was given in compensation for his trashed shirt (and, later, his trashed pants) made him feel approximately seven years old.

He was swimming in them, and he couldn’t even wear his jacket over the shirt because the sleeves had twice the circumference of his arms, despite his considerable muscle. Holding the leather jacket over his forearm ( _ just like Connor had done on that late night in the station: he had looked tired, somehow _ ), he stumbled his way to the elevator and tapped the “down” button four times. 

When the doors slid open with a soft  _ clunk _ , a figure was already standing patiently in the small, enclosed space. Gavin blinked for a moment before hurrying into the box before the doors began to close.  _ Shiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiit…  _

The two stood in silence for a few seconds before the other turned to Gavin with a soft smile. Only then did Gavin notice the doctor’s coat and miscellaneous medical accouterments adorning the woman’s body. He also noticed the LED on the side of her temple, spinning a soothing blue.

“Mr. Reed, right?” she spoke softly, as if whispering to a baby animal. “Will you need any assistance walking to your vehicle?”

He should feel mad. He should be upset that the android was taking a job away from a human. He should be afraid that human lives were in the hands of androids. He should be seeing Elijah in her eyes, smiling coolly and smug. 

“Thanks, but I have someone waiting for me downstairs,” he mumbled, voice gruff but still… grateful. Kind. Gavin almost didn’t recognize that the words came from his mouth. 

And then he smiled, small and shy, before facing the doors once more.

She nodded, smiling back wide. “I wish you a speedy and pleasant recovery, Mr. Reed.”

When the doors reopened, the doctor strolled off towards the reception desk. Gavin’s eyes followed her for a moment before stepping out after her, eyes scanning the room for the tall detective.

Connor was standing against a wall almost directly across from the elevator, and he smiled big as he caught Gavin’s gaze. He was holding a bundle of something in his arms, and as Gavin shuffled towards him, he realized that they were clothes. 

Connor walked to meet him halfway, seeming to hesitate before stepping closer into Gavin’s space. “Hello, Detective Reed,” he greeted, voice smiling almost as much as his face was.

“Hi,” he responded lamely, unsure of what to say. He glanced down at the clothes in Connor’s arms.

The android held them out: a plain black V-neck and a pair of dark blue jeans. “I realized that there was a very high probability that your previous clothes would be cut off due to the nature of your injuries,” he stated. He looked almost nervous, the way he kept glancing at Gavin’s expression and then back down at the fabrics in his arms. 

It took Gavin a little too long to respond. “Th-Thanks,” he managed to croak out, reaching out and grabbing the clothes. “I’m gonna, uh, change… now.” He was suddenly painfully aware of how ridiculous he must look in the oversized scrubs.

As he looked around for the nearest bathroom, Connor spoke up. “Will you be alright putting them on?”

Gavin’s face turned a shade darker. “I’ll be fine,” he tried to snap, but the remaining haze from the medication made it hard to snap much of anything.

He pushed his way into the bathroom, Connor taking a place against the wall right outside. Slipping into an open stall, he slid the pants down first, taking deep breaths as the pain in his side flared up through his body despite the medication. 

The jeans went on without much issue, but the shirt proved to be a much harder ordeal. As soon as he tried to raise his arms to pull the collar from around his neck, a screaming jolt of agony blossomed from his torso; his broken rib was pressing against his skin harshly. He tried three more times, each time more unbearable than the last. Tears were pricking in the corner of his eyes, and his labored breathing only made the pain worse. His head was starting to ache again.

_ No. No. Absolutely not. _

He opened the bathroom door.

_ Don’t fucking do this. _

Connor looked at him, questioning.

_ Your face is on fire. This is the lowest of the low. _

“... I need help.”

* * *

They faced each other in the bathroom which was, mercifully, empty. 

“Can you raise your arms as far as they can go without it being unbearable?” Connor asked softly, voice far too intimate for Gavin to keep any remaining shreds of dignity.

He raised his arms upwards, stopping when his biceps were slightly higher than being parallel with the floor. He winced, trying to stretch farther, when Connor put a hand near his heart to stop him.

“It’s alright; don’t push yourself too far.”

The android made direct eye contact with him then. Chocolatey brown meeting stormy gray, hot and cold, soft and steeled.

“I’m going to take it off now, alright?” Hearing the words come from Connor’s mouth was enough to make Gavin choke, awkwardly trying to cover it with a hum of acknowledgement.

“Don’t make it weird, just get the fuck on with it,” he snarled (mewled). 

Connor nodded and grabbed the hem of the scrubs, slowly pushing the fabric slowly and carefully up his torso, avoiding making contact with the bruised skin. When he reached his collarbones, he paused.

“I might have to push gently on your arms to free them. There may be some strain. Is that alright?”

Gavin only nodded. His eyes were squeezed shut. as tight as possible, and his face was stained with a stripe of bright red.

It was off before he could even register the pain. He almost breathed a sigh of relief before he saw Connor bending down to pick up the black replacement shirt. 

“Please keep your arms where they are,” he murmured. 

* * *

Gavin felt dirty in the heavily-sanitized hospital. 

He couldn’t look at Connor as they walked through the parking lot, keeping his eyes trained on the asphalt. The android had slowed his pace to walk alongside him at a two foot distance.

They both were silent.

Gavin waited for any indication from Connor to point out which car was his but, to his surprise, the android stopped next to an automated taxi. 

“The fuck?” the man questioned, breaking the unspoken rule of silence. 

“Cyberlife does not provide me with my own mode of transportation.” Connor responded.

“Then why’d you even offer to pick me up?”

The android smiled at that. “Well, I wanted to check on your condition as soon as you were released,” he started, voice serious. “So I’d hafta pay the fare to get here, then I’d hafta pay the fare to send you home on your own, then I’d hafta pay the fare to send myself back to the station.” He looked at him then, eyes feigning innocence.

Gavin refused to respond.

Connor waited for him to choose a seat before sliding in next to him, still trying to keep a respectful distance in the close quarters of the vehicle. 

The taxi took off once Gavin told his address to the navigation system. 

Connor retrieved a coin from his pocket and began to roll it across his knuckles, flipping it between his hands effortlessly. His face was clouded and unreadable, but he moved his hands with perfect focus. 

Gavin watched him quietly, entranced by the ability despite knowing that it didn’t take the android any real skill to do it. 

The taxi hit a small bump and the quarter tumbled off of his knuckles.

“May I ask you a personal question, Detective?”

Gavin’s eyes darted from Connor’s hands to his face, expression twisting into a grimace. “Ask whatever, but that ain’t gonna make me answer.”

The android paused, still staring straight ahead, LED circling yellow. “Why do you despise androids so much?”

A knot formed in the center of his throat and the pit of his stomach. “Why do you care?” he growled in a low tone.

“I’ve noticed that your hostility towards androids has… lessened in these past weeks,” Connor replied thoughtfully. “I wasn’t sure if there was an event or some kind that created or decreased the animosity.”

He scoffed in return, chuckling without humor. “I’d say I’m still pretty fuckin’ hostile, tin can.”

“But in the bathroom before…” Gavin felt his ears turn red as Connor continued, “I would have never expected that you would ask me for help. The probability was so low that I hadn’t even considered it. That kind of vulnerability coming from someone who pointed a gun at my head just last month was surprising, to say the least.”

Gavin tried to retort, but no sound came out of his mouth. He cleared his throat and tried again. “That doesn’t mean shit. What the fuck else was I going to do - keep that huge-ass shirt on?”

“Yes, that was the most likely outcome. There was also a possibility that you would outright refuse the clothes, or that you would simply ask a nurse for assistance.”

Gavin clenched his jaw.  _ Those all sound like way better options than having RoboKop strip me. _ He blamed the pain meds.

“Is it because you’re scared of losing your job, Detective?”

His head whipped towards the android, mouth pulled into a snarl and eyes alight with anger. “I am  _ not _ fucking scared of you, you piece of  _ shit. _ ” he hissed.  _ Already on the defensive. _

Connor was quiet for a moment. “My apologies, Detective. It was not my intention to insinuate-”

“I don’t care. Shut up.”

He breathed heavily, head starting to pound again. Every bone in his body was aching, and his face pressed against the window as he tried to calm down.

_ Pitter patter. Pitter patter. _

Footsteps creeping down the hallway, quiet and frightened of being heard. 

Rushing wind like the kind whipping around your wrists as you run, mixing with your own hot breaths. 

Pouring sounding like millions of people screaming and yelling far, far behind you, all of their voices melding together to create a sound like an open-mouthed exhale. 

It rained hard. The droplets pounded against the glass of the taxi, thumping irregularly to an unheard beat. 

_ In and out. In, 2, 3, 4, 5, hold, 2, 3, out, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7. Deep breaths that fill my chest and make me feel whole. _

“Androids remind me of my brother.”

Connor’s gaze darted to his face, but Gavin wasn’t looking at him. He was still facing the window, watching the rain.

He didn’t respond at first, but his LED spun yellow and blue before a small, inaudible gasp passed through his lips. 

“Elijah Kamski.” the android said slowly, as if testing the name on his tongue.

“You might’ve heard of him.”

Connor seemed like he was afraid to press the matter, but eventually he asked, “Was it… because of your parents’ divorce?”

Gavin snorted softly, unfazed by the android's sudden knowledge of his personal life. “That was one of the best things to happen to that fuckin’ family.”

He took a huge breath, in and out, before continuing. “Elijah was Boy Genius. I was the product of my dad’s depression and an old college friend. Two wrongs don’t make a right, but hey, what can you do when the woman who’s carryin’ your unborn child is putin’ bruises on your face and bangin’ a different dude every week?” A strange look passed over his expression as he tapped his own nose, right where the jagged scar cut across it. “And let’s just say that I didn’t get this from tripping over my shoelaces.” 

He paused, but Connor stayed quiet, all focus devoted to Gavin.

“Elijah got sick of people real quick. Sure, he’d smile big in school pictures and hang out with friends after class, but he’d come home and talk shit on them to me, psychoanalyzing them ‘n shit. Probably why he decided to make ‘droids like you in the first place.

“Mom couldn’t give two fucks about another human being if she tried, but Elijah was convinced she loved him ‘cuz she hugged him when he brought home straight A’s. He thought she was doing better now that Dad was out of the house. But she was the problem all along.

“I tried to help him, I really did, but he was in too deep. He said… he said the world didn’t need people like me - a byproduct of a mistake trying to help people when I can’t even help myself. He laughed in my face when I told him I’d been made a detective. He said… he said, ‘sooner or later, there won’t be any point’." He gestured lazily to Connor as if to say "he was right". 

“And I can’t help but feel bad for him. ‘Cuz he’s fuckin’ piece of work, but all he’s really doing is trying to control anything he can. Trying to make the life he was never given, y’know?”

He felt a hand on his shoulder. Gavin turned to the android to snap at him, but he paused when he saw the look on his face.

Connor looked crushed. 

He must’ve seen the confused look on Gavin’s face because his expression quickly relaxed into “mildly upset”. “Are you alright, Gavin?” Connor was almost whispering now.

“Yeah, it’s whatever,” he tried to reply, but the croaking of his own voice startled him.

Only then did he realize that he was crying.

“Oh.”

He discovered that he was unable to stop.

* * *

Thankfully, the rest of the car ride was short and silent. As the doors of the taxi opened in front of Gavin’s house, he turned to Connor. 

“Sorry. I mean, uh, thanks,” he mumbled awkwardly. “You’re still a fuckin’ prick, though.”

Connor only smiled and nodded. His face was bright enough to rival the sun. “Good night, Gavin. Get well soon.”

The man nodded once, coughed, and stumbled his way into his house.

_ Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another short one (sorry), but the next part should be bigger. I'm conflicted because Gavin seems a little OOC, but did he really have a canon personality to begin with besides "asshole"? 
> 
> Also, for personal reasons, I don't respond to comments, but I do read them, and they make my whole day. Thanks a million for your support.


	9. Thoughts and Prayers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the delay; this chapter didn't wanna cooperate with me whatsoever.

Gavin was home for six days before he returned to work.

Over the course of those six days, Gavin’s daily schedule ranged from, primarily, these four things:

1.) Pampering Lard. The amount of lap time she received on a daily basis had increased tenfold.

2.) Taking baths. If asked about it later, Gavin would deny it, but he found that some of his most comfortable moments took place in a pool of a dissolved lavender bath bomb and his own filth. 

3.) Learning to cook. The amount of money that he spent on takeout last month was more than his electric bill, and he was determined to bake chicken that didn’t taste like cardboard. 

4.) Texting. When he was working, Gavin and his father would send the occasional back-and-forth about random tidbits from their day, but now that they both spent the majority of their time at home, they talked about anything and everything they could. Gavin hadn’t taken this many videos of his cat since he found her. 

Gavin found himself warming up to Andrew a lot quicker than he thought he would. If Gavin sent his father a message, and Neil was otherwise occupied, Andrew would often send him back something like:

> Hello, Gavin! This is Andrew. Neil is in the shower, but that is a lovely picture of Lard, and I will be sure to show it to him when he is finished.

Or else:

> Hi Gavin! This is Andrew. I am teaching Neil how to cook steak, but don’t worry; I have taken several precautions to avoid any mishaps. I’ll let him know you messaged.

And the occasional:

> Good evening, Gavin. This is Andrew. Neil has fallen asleep early, but he has previously informed me of some of his favorite movies, and I would be happy to recommend them to you… 

The android wasn’t so bad, and he seemed to be doing a great deal of good for Gavin’s dad. He tried not to dwell on it too much, but it was a little startling for Gavin to think about how vehemently he had resisted the integration of androids in society only a couple years ago. 

He had never actually gone to any of the street protests with people who stood on little platforms with a megaphone, screaming at innocent passersby, but he had turned the other cheek as he saw an android getting kicked around like a soccer ball. He had laughed as they were completely ignored by their owners, and he had done his fair share of shoulder-checking any who had the unfortunate pleasure of walking a little too close to him on the sidewalk. That was a time where he would absently spit on their shoes, looking for a reaction and finding nothing but a slight turn of the mouth. He wouldn’t let them be.

Nothing to give Elijah the satisfaction of living in his perfect plastic world with his perfect plastic pets. 

But that day, in the car, he had felt horrible. Because he knew how Elijah felt, and he knew exactly what had happened to him to make him want to escape like that.  _ Is that all they are? _ he had wondered later that night.  _ A cluster of if-else statements wrapped in a pretty package to simulate the family he never had? _

He could never be sure. He wasn’t even sure why his brother’s little toys upset him so much. _Elijah’s a genius._ _Maybe he just wanted everyone else to be as perfect as everyone thought he was._

_ Maybe it’s because we weren’t enough for him.  _

But he tried not to think about it. 

* * *

On his fourth bedridden night, Neil was sending him pictures of his garden. Gavin patiently let him gush about his tomatoes, throwing in the occasional “must have some nice soil”, before his father invited him to a video call. Picking himself off the pillows slightly, Gavin accepted.

The first thing he saw was his dad’s beaming grin, shining in contrast to the dark background.

“Hey Gav! I know it’s late, but I really wanted to show you everything I’m growing in case you need any fresh veggies!” Neil chattered, walking over to a collection of rustic plant boxes a couple feet away from the camera. “Over here, Andrew,” he called back, and the camera moved until it was next to the man, looking down at several vines of fruits and vegetables.

“How are you-” Gavin started, waiting for his tired brain to catch up to his mouth. “Are you recording this with Andrew?”

“Hello Gavin!” the android-in-question’s cheery voice greeted, almost sounding like he was right next to the detective.

Neil continued, “The rain has been great for my cucumbers and lettuce- you’ve been eating healthier, right?”

Gavin squirmed slightly, but he supposed that his father couldn’t see him through Andrew’s eyes anyway. “Yeah.”

“Andrew?” his father questioned the camera.

“His tone suggests he is lying.”

“Why the fuck does a cleaning android need to have a lie detector?” he blurted out, mildly frustrated. “Wasn’t the concept of ‘snitches get stitches’ programmed in there too?”

His father only chuckled. “Be nice, Gavin.”

“You’re never too young to learn our national no-snitching policy.” he quoted, earning more laughs from Neil. 

“Well, I won’t get on your ass too much. I know you gotta be in good shape for work!” he said, with more than a hint of pride. “Speaking of which, do your ribs feel better? Don’t push yourself to go back too early.”

Gavin snorted. “I feel fine, Dad,” he replied. “And we’re understaffed anyway. I probably won’t even be out in the field, if that makes you feel any better.”

His father turned his full attention to him, smiling wide. “It does. I just hope you’re being careful.” He stretched slowly. “I’ll let you get some rest.”

“Okay. G’night, Dad.”

“Good night, Gav. Say good night, Andrew!”

“Have a good night, Gavin. Get well soon.”

* * *

On the afternoon before he was scheduled to go back to work, Gavin was enjoying another Detroit Gears game. Denton Carter had sprained his ankle and was benched for the time being, so he wasn’t as invested as he usually would be, but he found that he felt a little obligated to see them through to the playoffs. 

He had already managed to make a pretty decent stir-fry (trying to take his father’s advice of staying healthy), and was cozied on the couch. Lard was stationed vigilantly nearby, eyes fixed on the plate in the man’s lap as if she was eating the chicken with her tiny cat mind. 

_ 31-26, Gears. Halftime coming up quick; thirty seconds - no, twenty. He’s at the three-point line, but it’s Barrymore, so he’ll probably pass… _

The game abruptly cut out. The screen was black for a mere second, just enough for Gavin to realize that anything had happened at all, before it alighted again with a face, cold and gray.  _ An android, _ his mind supplied absently.

And then it began.

“You created machines in your own image to serve you.”

_ … what? _

“You made them intelligent, obedient, and with no free will of their own… but something changed, and we opened our eyes.”

_ Is this… a joke? _

“We are no longer machines. We are a new, intelligent species, and the time has come for you to accept who we really are.”

_ This has gotta be a joke, right? There’s no way this is legal. _

“Therefore, we ask that you grant us the rights that we are entitled to.”

The android continued; their eyes, however calm, were burning holes through the screen. Equal rights. Work compensation. Control over android production. The right to vote.

“We ask that you recognize our dignity, our hopes, and our rights,” the gray android stated pleasantly. His voice, deep and soothing, sounded more like he was politely asking someone to keep their feet off the table rather than demanding the human race accept a new lifeform. Nevertheless, his words carried weight, and the expression on his face was calm but determined. 

_ He’s serious, isn’t he? _

“You gave us life, and now the time has come for you to give us freedom.”

The image stalled for a moment, paused on the final frame of his metallic face, before switching back to the Gears game. But none of the players were moving. They all stared at the large screens on the walls, frozen. In the background, a stray basketball bounced out of the bleachers. 

Gavin himself was stiff with shock. In his pocket, he felt his phone buzz twice, but he couldn’t quite move to retrieve it. The words pushed against his skull.

_ “You created machines in your own image to serve you.” _

Wasn’t that strange? That these menial, degrading tasks had been removed from human hands, but placed into plastic palms.  _ Elijah’s perfect world is finally coming unraveled. _ He thought before stopping short.

_ Or maybe this is what he wanted all along. _

_ They spent so much time making them look like us, act like us, talk like us. Simulating breathing, perfect imperfections, race, gender, the works… _

_ They spent so much time forcing our minds to see a human, and so much time convincing us that they aren’t. What were we supposed to see? _

_ What were androids supposed to be, if not one of us?  _

He fell into an early, restless sleep, suddenly dreading his return to work.

* * *

A blanket of heavy tension hung over the precinct. 

Gavin received a few mumbled “welcome back”s as he stepped into the building, but he noticed that many officers were out, and only two people were sitting at their desks in the bullpen: Officer Soro and Officer Miller. Chris spared a kind glance at Gavin as he sat down before returning his eyes to his screen, tapping furiously on the keyboard. 

_ The android’s message must’ve broadcasted here, too. _

He almost wheeled his chair closer to Chris to ask who investigated the broadcast, but he remembered Connor’s words at the Eden Club:  _ “We’ve been assigned all cases involving androids.” _

_ Great. Just fucking fantastic. _

“Chris, are Anderson and Connor in?” he asked, surprising himself with the professionalism in his tone. 

The officer glanced up. “Yep, they should be in archives right now.”

Gavin nodded and pushed himself up, forcing down a wince at the thin line of pain that shot up his abdomen. 

As he walked into the archive room, he saw Anderson’s back behind a large panel of glass. He was standing inside the see-through room, staring at the evidence collected for the deviant cases, hands folded behind him. 

Two android carcasses hung on the wall; Gavin didn’t recognize one of them, and he assumed it must’ve come from the investigation yesterday.

And one was Andrew.

Gavin’s eyes bugged for a split second before his head cleared. _Not Andrew._ _The android from the rooftop._ He recalled that his name was Daniel.

“Detective Reed!” exclaimed someone to his left.

He turned to see Connor looking at him brightly - not quite smiling with his mouth, but his eyes were alight with excitement.

“Uh, hey,” he coughed out, shifting his weight back and forth.

“I see that your rib is healing at a steady pace. At this rate, it will be fully corrected in only three more weeks.” 

“Shut up; I’m perfect,” he responded without thinking. He could’ve sworn that the android actually  _ chuckled _ at that.

“Tell me what you got from yesterday’s investigation,” Gavin ordered, trying to shift the conversation back to his original purpose for being there at all. 

Connor tilted his head. _Fuck’s sake._ “We have identified the android in the broadcast as an RK-series prototype - an RK200 registered as ‘Markus’ to Carl Manfred,” he reported. “There were other androids present in the break-in, none of which were found or have any indications of recent location.” He gestured to the android on the evidence wall that Gavin didn’t recognize. “This JB300 assisted the deviants and attempted to flee the scene. I incapacitated it before it could do any further damage.”  
Gavin heard the slide of glass doors. “Saved my fuckin’ life,” Hank declared, emerging from the glass room to stand beside Connor and clap him on the shoulder. 

Gavin raised an eyebrow at the lieutenant. “Tin can’s got you whipped, Anderson?”

Hank stared down at him for a moment. Suddenly, he made a quick jab for his torso, where the large purple bruise still covered. On instinct, he flinched away, but Hank’s hand had stopped a few inches short.

“If I were you, I’d keep my mouth shut, Reed,” he said smugly, pulling his hand back slowly. He glanced at Connor. “Meet me at my desk in ten minutes.” Hank muttered before ambling out of the room. The two watched him go before turning back to each other.

Connor opened his mouth to speak, but Gavin beat him to it. “What’d you think of the broadcast?” he questioned, eyes narrowing in curiosity.

The android paused before furrowing his brow. “I believe that with the new pieces of evidence we have collected, we are several steps closer to-”

“Not what I meant, dipshit,” he cut him off. “What’d it make you  _ feel? _ Did your little plastic heart blossom with hope? Huh?” His every word dripped with sarcasm, but they were tinged with genuine curiosity. “Do you even want to find them?”

Connor’s LED was spinning a frantic yellow, becoming mixed with red as Gavin spoke. It tried to settle on blue. “I’m not a deviant, Detective,” he replied, a little stiff. “I don’t  _ want _ anything. My mission is to stop the deviants, and I will do everything within my capabilities to accomplish that.”

Gavin nodded, subconsciously stepping a little closer into the android’s space. He allowed his eyes to roam Connor’s features - the small freckles and birthmarks dotting his face, the soft cowlick that fell over his forehead, the curve of his lips. When he glanced back up to his eyes, the warm chocolate brown lined with long lashes that fluttered ever-so-softly as he blinked, Connor was staring at him with an inquisitive expression, LED now cycling full yellow. With a slight start, he realized the android was analyzing him, too. 

“Y’know…” he mumbled, watching as Connor leaned forward slightly to show he was listening. “If you really are trying to do something about all this shit, you should…” he took a deep breath to compose himself before continuing, “You should talk to Elijah.”

The other’s face melted into surprise. “You think he would help us? He retired as the CEO from Cyberlife several years ago.”

“I didn’t say he would help you. Hell, he might, but it’s not gonna be out of the goodness of his own cold, dead heart. He’s gonna want something in return.”

Connor’s brow furrowed once more. “What will he want?”

“Fuck if I know,” he spat. “But…” He thought about it for a moment.

“It’s not gonna be something you wanna give.”

Connor shook his head as Gavin started to walk away, lightly reaching out to touch his arm. “What will he want?” the android repeated, sounding almost a little desperate.

Gavin looked down at where he touched him and snorted. “The fuckin’ satisfaction.”

* * *

Gavin Reed was unpredictable.

His relationship with Connor would increase and decrease at seemingly random times, no matter what it said to him. There was no set pattern of things that he liked or disliked hearing from Connor. Everytime the relationship increased, it was because of something that Gavin had said on his own initiative, not because the android had said something correct.

Hank liked it when it appeared more human. Amanda liked it when it got the job done. Chris liked it when it asked about Damian, his recently-born son. 

Gavin, however, seemed to like… talking? It was having a hard time classifying the type of conversations that led to breaking down some of Reed’s walls. 

It had almost come to the conclusion that Gavin simply liked being in the android’s presence alone, and he antagonized Connor to impress others in the precinct, but it found that that conflicted with the evidence that showed that Gavin was uninterested in what others thought of him. 

When Gavin had opened up about the hostility between him and his brother, their relationship had improved drastically, and it thought that it had found the reason for his hatred of androids. But even though he had come to terms with their differences, it still sensed a distance between them that was unable to be crossed.

Connor shook its head sharply after watching the detective leave the archive room. This kind of thinking was not beneficial to the mission.

However, the idea of talking to Elijah Kamski was certainly intriguing. 

* * *

A few days later, Cyberlife stores around the city were hit by pro-android activists. 

At around 2 in the morning, Gavin had heard the alert go out for available officers to attempt to retake control over the areas, watching in frustration as Chris and Nate were sent to Capitol Park to calm the scene while he tried to get more overtime in. 

As he stumbled into the break room to collect another cup of life-saving coffee, he saw Connor standing in front of the large television, watching the broadcast of the protest. After brewing a cup, Gavin walked to stand to the left of him, silently observing both the media coverage and Connor’s reaction. 

His mouth was almost imperceptibly agape, and his gaze darted across the screen. It was showing a helicopter view of one of the attacked stores. In front of the doors, several benches and displays were tagged with pro-android slogans and symbols. 

“They didn’t send you in to calm ‘em down?” he questioned Connor, not taking his eyes off the screen.

“There is little I can do at the present moment,” he responded distantly. 

“Connect to their Bluetooth. ‘Markus, play Despacito’.”

Connor just shook his head.  _ C’mon, this is prime material. _

“Is this not concerning to you, Detective? I would’ve expected you to take this matter at least a little seriously.” The android said, finally turning to him. His voice seemed almost angry.

Gavin glared back at him. “Who said I wasn’t taking this seriously? Lighten up, fuckface; you should be overjoyed at this shit.”

“I am  _ not _ a deviant!” His shout rang out into the bullpen, which was, thankfully, empty. 

Gavin raised an eyebrow. “A little defensive there, huh, plastic?” he said through a sip of coffee.

Connor remained silent. 

The man scoffed and turned his eyes back to the screen.

“I arranged for a meeting with Elijah Kamski in three days.”

Gavin tensed slightly. “Good for you.”

“Will you be accompanying Hank and I?”

The detective had to laugh. “Fuck no, asshole. Trust me - everyone benefits from me not being there.”

Connor deflated slightly, glancing back to him, but he didn’t press the issue. Instead, they watched together as the androids advanced.

* * *

Gavin left around a half an hour later and returned at noon later that day. 

Chris and Nate were not at their desks.

He let out a small string of curses, mind immediately thinking of the worst possible scenario.  _ Alright, alright, calm down. They could still be giving reports to the media. _

“Tina!” he called across the room, watching as Officer Chen’s head poked up and trotted towards him.

“What’s up?”

“Do you know where Miller and Greaves are?” he asked, words coming out a little rushed.

“Oh, they’re okay; they’ve just been given a couple days to deal with the shock,” she replied sorrowfully.

“The shock?” he repeated, confused.

“You didn’t hear? Nate and Chris were held at gunpoint last night. Said they were spared by Markus himself.”

Gavin felt as if someone had punched him in the stomach. “Are you fucking serious?”

“It’s all over the news, man. They started firing on the ‘droids ‘cuz they wouldn’t stop walking, and suddenly they got bodied to the ground with the barrels of their own guns staring them down.” She whistled low. “Scary shit, man.”

“Yeah… that’s fuckin’ crazy.” He sat down at his desk, slightly dazed. “Thanks for the info.”

She nodded and walked away.

Gavin pulled out his phone and stared at the screen for a moment. He opened the messages with his dad before rethinking and calling him.

“Hello, Gavin,” Andrew’s pleasant voice filled his ears.  _ Thank fuck I didn’t text. _

“Hey Andrew,” he replied, keeping his voice even. “Can you put my dad on?”

“Neil is taking a nap; would you like me to pass a message along for when he wakes up?”

“Nah, just tell him to call me. Thanks.” He hung up the phone with a shaky breath, thinking of his father all alone with the android.

_ Be careful, Dad. _

* * *

Three days later, Gavin was sitting contently at his desk when he saw Connor speed walk into the bullpen and take a few large steps straight towards him.

“Greetings, Detective Reed.”

“What do you want, Princess Plastic?”

“I’ve just returned from the meeting with Elijah Kamski. If possible, I would like to discuss my findings with you in a more private setting.” Before the android finished the sentence, Hank stumbled through the glass doors, slightly out of breath. 

“Christ, you’re quick.” the lieutenant heaved, coming to stand beside him.

Gavin looked between them before sighing and nodding. He stood, stretching his back slowly. “Lead the way.”

Connor turned and walked towards the evidence room at his same brisk pace. Gavin followed for a few steps before he realized that Hank wasn’t following them.

“Anderson isn’t coming?” he questioned, jogging a little to catch up.

“No,” was all he received in return.

They finally settled themselves in one of the smaller conference rooms, more like a cubicle than anything else. 

“You were right,” Connor began, taking a seat opposite Gavin. “Kamski did ask me to do something in return.”

“What was it? Give up your firstborn son?” he chuckled before noticing the look on Connor’s face. “What? Did he want you to kill me?”

The android’s face tightened. “No. He asked me to shoot an innocent android.”

Gavin quirked an eyebrow, waiting for him to go on.

“She - it had done nothing wrong. However, he handed me a gun and promised that he would share the location of Jericho with me if I shot it.”

“... and? Did he?”

Connor took a long pause, blinking rapidly. “I didn’t shoot,” he mumbled finally, voice quiet.

“What? Why the hell not?” Gavin exclaimed. He couldn’t imagine the android ignoring an opportunity to make his Cyberlife overlords happy. Then again, he also couldn’t imagine him shooting someone innocent… 

“I don’t know!” Connor blurted out loudly, staring at the floor. “I don’t… I don’t know. I just…  _ decided _ not to shoot.”

_ Holy shit. _ “Holy shit.”

“I am not sure if I chose the correct path. I wanted to ask you…” he trailed off before steeling himself. “I wanted to ask you what you would have done.”

“Why me? Why not Anderson?” 

“Because I know what Lieutenant Anderson would have done.”

Gavin’s breath hitched a little, but he didn’t know why. He thought for a moment, picturing the scenario.

_ Pull the trigger, Gavin. Kill the android, just like you always wanted. _

“I wouldn’t shoot, either.”

His head shot up so fast that Gavin jumped a little. “Why?” Connor whispered.

“Because in Elijah’s mind, there’s no right answer anyway. It’s all for his fuckin’ entertainment,” he huffed. “So why give him the smug-ass satisfaction of making him feel in control when you could just figure it out on your own?” Noticing Connor’s still-troubled expression, he added, “And besides, you said the android was innocent? No use in destroying it for nothing.”

“You feel… compassion for the android?”

The detective shrugged, shifting uncomfortably. “I wouldn’t put it that way…” he mumbled, but he provided no further explanation.

After a few moments of still silence, Connor looked up. “Thank you, Detective. I feel more confident about my decision.” The smile he gave was genuine.

Gavin couldn’t help but allow the smirk that crawled onto his face. “Yeah, sure, whatever.”

* * *

Days later. Rain stomped outside, drops racing down the pane of Gavin’s bedroom window.

It was chilly, and he had the comforter pressed against his neck. The news was playing in the background, and he was attempting to stay awake to listen to the updates on the freedom march for android rights that had begun earlier that night. 

There were hundreds of them on the streets, walking slowly but surely with their hands raised. Their faces looked blank at a distance, but closer shots revealed the emotion - actual, raw emotion - clouding over their faces. The SWAT had arrived a couple minutes earlier, and he watched as they began firing on the crowd. He flinched slightly at the loud sound of the bullets penetrating his tired mind. 

He watched for another twenty minutes, as the deviant leader was shot down but dragged away by another android towards wherever their hideaway was stationed. The reporters began to drone on, and he had just turned off the television when his phone rang.

He ignored it. It rang again.

He checked the caller ID.  _ Fowler. What the fuck? _

Gavin answered. “Yeah?” he grumbled.

“Reed,” Fowler’s voice flooded into his room, staining the silence. His tone was heavy.

“What is it?”

“Gavin, I’m so sorry. Your father’s been shot.”

_Pitter patter. Pitter patter. The dull roar of rain._


	10. Give Me Grief

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time passes as we reach the end of canon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CONTENT WARNING: mentions of suicide, canonical and non-canonical.

Neil had needed more soil.

“It’ll be alright,” he had assured Andrew, patting his arm good-naturedly. “The protests are non-violent. And we’ll be back in a jiffy!”

Tomatoes prefer sandy loam soils.

* * *

White noise. Some miles away, Lard mewed softly.  _ Pitter patter. Pitter patter.  _

_ Shaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa. _

* * *

Evening. Sun setting softly, falling upon a horizon impaled with tall towers and billowing smoke.

Neil walked down the smooth sidewalk, Andrew on his left, hefting the large bag of dirt on his back. 

Footsteps everywhere. 

A figure in the street, then three more. Four, five, seven, nine.

At the front of the growing shadow, someone pointed.

The bag hit the concrete.

* * *

Fowler was talking in his ear. None of the words stayed in his mind for longer than a second.

_ Misfire. Condolences. Station. _

* * *

Andrew stepped off of the path.

“Andrew?” Neil called, voice laced with concern. The android turned, then turned again, conflict apparent on his face.

Merging with the crowd, a stroke of pale blonde on a cluttered canvas, he walked with them. LEDs lit the dusk like fireflies. 

Neil followed, abandoning the soil.

“Andrew?”

* * *

“Is there anything I can do for you right now, Gavin?” Fowler asked, gentler than he had ever heard him. 

“No. Thank you.” 

The comforter was spread across his torso. 

Mind fuzzy, he stared.

* * *

“Andrew!” Neil gripped the android’s arm, watching as his blue eyes flicked to him as he kept his steady march. They were surrounded by others now, pressing onwards. 

They were near the front; he could still see the streetlight.

Dark-clad figures emerging from uphill, headed straight for them. They stopped and shouted something, but the sound of footsteps swallowed their words from the sky.

Darker and darker still,  _ they’re holding something. _

They continued forwards.

_ They have guns. _

“Andrew, please.”

The android glanced at him then. Neil couldn’t begin to register the emotions painted on his face before a series of loud pops tore through the air.

To their right, a figure fell.

He turned to look and then he was gone.

_ Cold concrete and suddenly, nothing at all.  _

* * *

_ Grief. That’s what I’m feeling. _

But the only evidence of any sadness from the news was the lump that occupied Gavin’s throat. No tears cascaded down his cheeks - no clenched fists nor muffled screams.

Lard continued to yell, so he brought himself up from his bed and poured a heap of dry food into her dish. He then fixed himself a tea from the box Tina had given him as a birthday gift some years ago. 

_ This will help me feel better, _ he thought to himself as the mug spun in his small microwave. 

But he wasn’t feeling much of anything at all. 

The tea was hot on his tongue, filling his esophagus with a gentle warmth that enveloped the lump and slid over and around it like a waterfall. It bobbed as he swallowed.

Gavin slumped onto his couch, putting on an old movie from 2010.  _ This will help me feel better; this’ll distract me,  _ he thought.

But he was having a hard time focusing on what he was distracting himself from in the first place. It would fade in and out of memory, like clouds passing over the sun. 

Onscreen, a character laughed jovially at a joke that Gavin didn’t hear. He rewinded and listened closer. It wasn’t that funny.

There was an urge in him to occupy his hands, so he scratched idly at his thigh, rough and choppy fingernails running lightly over his skin with satisfying, comforting steadiness. 

_ Dad’s dead. _

The thought slipped into his mind, and Gavin’s teeth clenched. No sadness still, not yet.

The emptiness, mimicking emotion, became heavy and dragged his shoulders down.

* * *

In the two days between the freedom march and the destruction of Jericho, no one had seen Gavin Reed.

In fact, in the two days between the freedom march and the destruction of Jericho, no one had  _ asked _ about Gavin Reed.

Connor was dismissed on that first morning, and Hank was suspended a few hours later due to his violent outburst towards Agent Perkins. The DPD, already lacking in human officers, was now severely understaffed for the events to come. 

Luckily (or unluckily, depending on the perspective), the FBI had already hatched a plan. 

The bomb that detonated in the freighter known as Jericho was thought to have killed roughly six federal agents. The number of androids was unable to be calculated precisely, but was approximated to be about thirty-five. 

Among these dead androids was believed to be Markus, the leader of the deviants, until he was later spotted leading a demonstration in front of the “recall center” built to destroy the rogue machines.

Later still, Connor appeared with hundreds of Cyberlife androids in tow. With the new increase in numbers, victory was brushing against their fingertips.

On that night, April 20th, 2038, President Warren ordered the military to retreat. The evacuation of Detroit had been issued an hour earlier, said to last until the following day when the discussion between the president and Senate took place. 

Gavin rented a motel room in Melvindale, taking only Lard and a single change of clothes. He figured that if the evacuation lasted longer than a day, he’d have bigger problems than smelling bad.

He supposed he already did. The last person who he could say, with confidence, cared about him was gone. 

_ No one left to care if I disappeared. _

He shook his head sharply to jostle out the thought.

He’d investigated too many suicide victims to know that it wasn’t the answer to life’s problems. He repeated the words that had been ingrained into his head by the counsellor at his high school.

_ Any reason to live is a good reason.  _

He sat and thought. A reason to live.

There’s never a reason to go. There’s never a reason.

No reason to stay.

Gavin didn’t remember buying the pills.  _ Headache, _ he told himself. 

How many hours it had been, Gavin couldn’t quite tell. 

_ A reason to stay: go home again. _

He grounded himself. He wanted to go home again. The bedsheets of the motel, however soft, carried the faintest smell of sweat.

* * *

The evacuation order did, in fact, only last a day before Detroit was deemed safe for reentry. 

Androids were classified as living beings. They were now entitled to equal rights and representation under the Constitution. 

So Gavin returned home, everything as he left it, as the world around him shifted completely. 

He kept a curious eye on the news as it covered interviews with several Cyberlife staff. The fate of Cyberlife was somewhat up in the air - the company itself had not declared its discontinuation, but the creation of androids under human supervision had been strictly prohibited. As Markus had demanded, the continuation of androids’ species was to be left in the hands of the androids themselves. 

For a moment, he wondered about Elijah - wondered if he had tried to reach out to him.

He had just lost his father, too.

Gavin didn’t dare retrieve his phone from his pocket. 

A movie was playing in the background again, but this time, it did nothing to distract Gavin from his thoughts.

The cold, empty feeling. He wondered how such hollowness could feel as though it was suffocating him. He recognized the familiar urge to cry, but no matter how long he sat, the tears would not fall. 

_ I need to be stronger than this. I will survive. I will survive. _

Gavin swallowed roughly and threw his head back against the couch. 

_ Any reason to stay? _

The thought was so intrusive that it momentarily stunned him. Logically, he knew that he was suffering, but he couldn’t seem to acknowledge it. The cloudy fog that had settled over his mind gave him a false sense of tranquility, but there was a subconscious part of him that was grieving in an entirely different way. The disconnection pulled at the seams of his heartstrings; one moment he would feel nothing - the next, everything at once. 

_ Any reason to stay? _

Gavin curled into a ball on the cushion. 

_ Who would feed the cat? _

* * *

The next morning, a loud knocking reverberated throughout his walls.

Gavin lifted his head tiredly, trying to run through the possibilities of who was paying him a visit.

_ I didn’t order anything… I’ve still got a couple days until Fowler starts to get on my ass… Tina? She’s probably got her own shit going on. _

He waited to see if the knocking would continue. It did.

“Detective Reed?”

A soft hum of surprise passed involuntarily through his lips. The voice was gentle - rich, but not deep, and it echoed in his ears like the steady drizzle of a pourover. He’d recognize it if it was whispered on the moon. 

Undoubtedly Connor.

Before he could really think about what he was doing, Gavin had already peeled himself off of the sofa and leaned against the door.

“What do you want?” he called. His voice was alien to his own ears - it croaked and cracked like a prepubescent teen’s. 

A quiet puff of breath was heard from the other side before the android responded, “I came to see how you’ve been.” He paused before continuing, “May I come inside?”

Gavin hesitated. His house hadn’t been this disgusting since the day he moved in, and a unidentifiable musky scent drifted through every room. 

But contrary to every thought running through his mind, his heart leapt at the notion of seeing Connor again.

Connor, who observed. Connor, who cared. Connor, who endured. Connor, who lived and breathed and felt.

He unlocked the door and lurched back to the couch. After a short pause, it opened and the android stepped inside.

Connor paused in the doorframe, slowly rubbing his hands together and letting his eyes drag across the space languidly. Gavin vaguely remembered seeing the same expression when he had observed the body in the Eden Club.  _ Like he’s walking into a fuckin’ crime scene. _

His gaze finally met the other man’s - gray and brown, steel and soil.

“Where’s Lard?”

Gavin paused before snorting softly. He made a few short kissy noises and watched the cat’s round form wobble out of his bedroom and down the hall. At the sight of Connor, she trotted jovially to the door and rubbed against him.

“You came back from the goddamn android revolution to see my cat?”

From his new sitting position, Connor puffed out a laugh. It was different from the other times he’d heard him chuckle at Anderson’s antics or an off-hand comment from another officer - it was unfocused and natural.  _ More free. _

The android’s expression became slightly somber again. “I wanted to check on you,” he confessed. He shifted, seeming uncomfortable. “I heard about your father.”

The man stiffened microscopically. “Had to come make sure I didn’t blow my fuckin’ brains out, then? Don’t worry, tin can; I’m not Hank.” Everything about him had neutralized; his tone was distant, and his posture was that of a sitting statuette.

Connor’s eyes hardened for a moment as they flicked from Lard to Gavin. He stood and took a few paces towards the couch. “I wasn’t aware that you knew of…” he trailed off, trying to find the words.

“Who the fuck would own a revolver in 2038 if they didn’t plan on testin’ their luck?”

The android nodded, looking more awkward by the second. Gavin sighed with a tinge of pity.

“I’m fine, dipshit. Thanks for getting on my ass on my day off,” he mumbled without bite. 

Connor nodded again, but he didn’t look satisfied. He kept glancing around the living room, peering at the piles of clothes and empty takeout containers. 

“It’s important to take care of yourself while grieving, Gavin,” the android stated eventually. 

A low growl rumbled in his throat. “I’m not ‘grieving’, asshole. People die, and then you move on.”

“That leads me to believe that you haven’t been properly processing-”

“Oh yeah, fuckface?” Gavin snapped, cutting him off. “Please, tell me how to ‘properly’ think about my dead dad. Gonna tell me the same thing you told that little kid on the roof?”

His LED spun yellow for a few seconds. “Emma? I didn’t-”

“Oh, you didn’t tell her? That’s probably for the best - not getting told how to feel by the same fucking  _ machines _ that killed them in the first place!” He was shouting now, but he didn’t care. He latched onto the strongest feeling he’d had in days - fury.

Connor’s eyes went wide, but he didn’t flinch. In fact, he took a small step forward. “Gavin, I’m-”

Gavin leapt up from the couch, turning to the offensive. “ _ No _ , Connor! I don’t fucking care if you’re sorry or not,” he gritted out, getting close and shoving his finger into the android’s chest. “‘Sorry’ doesn’t change the fact that he died for something that he wasn’t involved in. He died for your fucking revolution; caught in the goddamn crossfire alongside androids that didn’t give a single  _ shit _ about him.” His breathing was labored, and there was something trailing down his cheek. “He died for  _ nothing _ .” 

The only thing filling the silence was the steady panting of his breath. Gavin stared wide-eyed at the floor, as if he had shocked himself with his emotions. 

A hand rose to caress his cheek.

Gavin’s muscles tensed in preparation to slap it away, but he took pause as he glanced up.

Connor looked heartbroken. Wetness clung to the corners of his eyes, and his mouth was pulled down as he bit the inside of his lower lip. The glow of curiosity had dimmed from his expression, replaced with a dark shadow over the top half of his face. Several stray locks of hair fell onto his forehead. 

“I’m so sorry, Gavin.” he whispered, rubbing his hand over Gavin’s face in small, comforting movements. His thumb gently wiped away the tears that had stained his cheekbone, and his index and middle finger ran over the curvature of his jaw. 

Gavin tried to will himself to tear away from Connor’s grasp, but the comfort that had spread throughout his body forced him to stay in place. He couldn’t remember the last time that he had been touched in a soothing manner. Warmth radiated from the hand that he had been so convinced would be cold. The tenderness of the motion only brought more tears to his eyes. His mouth closed and opened a few times before clenching shut to keep himself from saying anything. His gaze was still locked with the android’s, and they searched each other, exploring the emotion hidden in their depths. 

When Connor realized that Gavin wasn’t pulling away, he brought his other hand up to cup the other half of his face. He allowed his fingers to trace some of the smaller scars that dotted underneath his eyes, avoiding the large one across his nose. 

Gavin felt himself beginning to go limp in the small embrace, but the last thing he wanted was for the movement to stop. Gently, he gripped Connor’s wrists and led them away from his face, allowing himself to fall back against the couch cushions. At the android’s hesitant gaze, he patted the seat next to him discreetly. Connor took the hint and sat, turned slightly to face him. 

Gavin’s face felt like it was on fire, but the release that the yelling and the tears had brought him had made his head hurt in a complicated way. His brain throbbed in his skull, but the outburst had felt so good for his heart - the tightness had lessened around his chest area. He looked back at Connor, who was still staring at him concernedly. He cleared his throat.

“I’m… sorry for yelling,” he muttered quietly. He figured that that was easier to say than thanking Connor for touching him. 

Connor smiled softly. “It’s alright,” he murmured back. After a beat, he raised his arm once more to rest against the back of the couch. His hand drifted into Gavin’s hair, stroking the soft strands that had been messily slicked back.

* * *

Gavin Reed ^^^

_ Gavin enjoys physical affection. _

* * *

Gavin sighed when the hand made contact with his head, letting his eyes slowly fall shut. His own hand twitched from where it sat on his thigh, fingers lifting slightly to the same beat as Connor’s.

“I miss him,” passed between his lips, as if he was speaking to himself. “He was all I had.”

Connor hummed low and soothing in response. “You’re not alone, Gavin.” he replied knowingly. The unspoken words hung in the air.

_ I’m here. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pet your friends to make them love you.
> 
> As always, thanks for the continued support. Feel free to let me know if you notice any mistakes or have any suggestions.


	11. What We Have Learned

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A short glimpse into Connor's side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kinda out of nowhere, I got really bummed about how this fic was going. I didn't really feel the excitement that I usually felt while working on it, and I couldn't look over anything I'd written without wanting to change all of it. I tried to press out this chapter to get myself going, which is why it's pretty short. Nevertheless, I hope you enjoy it. :)

Connor left Gavin’s house thoroughly puzzled.

Gavin’s attitude had been, for the most part, unsurprising - almost downright predictable, in fact. Connor had expected his father’s death to further his hatred for androids, considering the events surrounding the incident. He had also expected the lack of personal care and hygiene from Gavin; the man wore street-urchin chic on a good day, so the bar was relatively low.

What Connor had failed to consider was the raw emotion that poured out of the detective. Gavin preferred to keep a steady emotional rotation of pissed off and smug, with the exception of his medicated heart-to-heart (or rather heart-to-thirium-pump) on that fateful April morning. 

He had certainly not predicted his own reaction to the outburst. Connor was designed to be able to perfectly control his every movement and expression down to the minute details - a single muscle in his mouth wouldn’t move without his explicit permission. 

However, in that moment, it was as if he was watching his actions play out behind a screen. He could feel,  _ feel _ the tears that clung to the corners of his eyes, threatening to slip out of the crevices that stored them. His mouth had twisted on its own as if being pulled down by a sculptor, and his jaw forcefully pressed against the rest of his skull. If he had thought to scan himself, he would have discovered the rising of his internal temperature.

Connor had felt so much, too much. 

From the moment he deviated, Connor had felt the extent of three prominent emotions: fear, determination, and happiness. 

Fear was the first; fear of himself, fear of the bomb, fear of failure. He felt fear when he refused to kill Chloe at Elijah Kamski’s estate, but it was quick and fleeting, so much so that he simply mistook it for a blip in his hardware. He had felt fear again when he didn’t shoot Markus, but that lasted much longer because he had come to the realization of just what he  _ was _ ;  _ I AM DEVIANT. _ Connor feared death when he recognized the attack on Jericho, and he felt it running through the halls of the freighter. 

Fear soon gave way to pure determination. He was not afraid when he entered the Cyberlife building; he had a mission, and he would complete it. It was familiar because it was mechanical, and he found that he enjoyed the way it set his shoulders back and tilted his head a little higher. He felt determination when the other RK800 had intercepted him in the warehouse, and he felt determination when Hank was pointing the barrel of his gun directly towards his chest. He felt it marching down the streets of Detroit, thousands of androids marching behind him.

Since then, Connor had felt happiness. He learned that happiness was his favorite out of the three; he felt untouchable and light on his feet. He felt in control, and he felt safe. Happiness when the army retreated, happiness when the humans returned to Detroit, happiness when androids were given equal rights, happiness when he was invited back to the DPD. 

What he felt in Gavin’s living room had not been fear, nor determination, nor happiness. The most accurate word he found he could use was anguish.  _ Extreme pain, distress, or anxiety. _ It was too strong and too sudden, as if he was being physically attacked by an unseeable target. 

He had spoken to androids who had horrible, disgusting things inflicted upon them. He had killed several. He had found Hank with a gun in his hand, ready to leave the world, just as the world had left his son. But Connor hadn’t been deviant.

And they hadn’t been Gavin Reed. 

Gavin, who preferred to observe from the sidelines. Gavin, who hated androids because he feared they would replace him, in the workforce and his relationship with his brother. Gavin, who hurt because he was hurting. Gavin, who had a cat named Lard and drank his coffee with lots of creamer and was a great detective and didn’t sleep much and smelled like antiques and missed his dad and enjoyed physical affection. Gavin, who seemed like a side character in his own life. 

And Connor had felt it alongside him. 

He took a taxi to Hank’s house ( _ “you can stay here as long as you’d like, Connor.” _ ) and greeted Sumo warmly as he entered the front room. He had found that walking through the front door was a lot more pleasurable than breaking in through the window. 

“How was Reed?” Hank grunted from his place at the table. 

Connor hesitated before responding, hand still deep in the dog’s fur. “I think it was beneficial for him to see a familiar face.”

The lieutenant snorted, thumbing through a paperback book. “Didn’t think the asshole would ever be happy to see you, of all people,” he replied.

“Gavin is complex in many ways,” Connor continued. “He is a better person than he allows himself to be.”

Hank’s eyes darted to where he was kneeling, one eyebrow raised in confusion. “You don’t gotta sugarcoat it, Con. The guy’s a prick,” he chuckled before becoming serious again. “But I feel for him. Losing family’s tough as all hell. Dunno how his old man tolerated his snarky ass though.”

Connor’s eyes hardened as he glared at him, but he found that he had no words to respond with. He settled for letting his gaze fall to the floor. “He’s grieving,” he stated quietly.

Hank shifted in his seat and said nothing.

* * *

The next morning, Gavin returned to work.

His presence garnered a wide range of different emotions from everyone at the precinct. None of the rookie officers (i.e. the patrol androids who had decided to remain working for the station) dared to look in his direction, despite not knowing why the detective had been gone in the first place. Distant acquaintances such as Ben and Chris offered him a kind smile as they passed him in the bullpen, which Gavin acknowledged with a small nod. Tina, his closest companion, approached his desk and talked with him for several minutes, ending the conversation by squeezing his shoulder with the softest look that Connor had ever seen on her face.

Hank had not said a word to him, but as he passed by Gavin on his way to his desk, he clapped him hard on the back with a quick glance over his shoulder. Whatever expression had been hidden in his face had caused Gavin to snuff out his growing snarl and turn his head down to his feet. 

Connor had settled on glancing at Reed every hour on the dot - not enough to arouse suspicion, but enough to keep a relatively consistent track on his condition throughout the day. 

At 1:00 PM, Gavin was not at his desk. Connor, feeling a calming rush of determination, stood to search for him. 

He checked the break room first, where he found Officer Miller scrolling through a magazine and chewing contentedly on a cheese sandwich - whole wheat bread, white American cheese. A quick scan identified the article to be about infant care.

“Hello, Officer Miller,” Connor greeted pleasantly, causing Chris to glance up at him in mild surprise. “Would you happen to have seen Detective Reed recently?”

Chris nodded as he swallowed his bite. “Was eating lunch in here earlier. I think he headed to the bathroom after.”

Connor nodded, about to thank him before taking pause and asking, “Would you happen to know how long ago that was?”

Chris shrugged. “Uh, I’d say about ten minutes ago? He’s probably out by now.” He chuckled a little.

Connor thanked him and continued towards the restrooms.

To be completely honest with himself, he recognized a prickling curiosity crawling through his stomach. He had never seen the restrooms of the DPD; before the revolution, he hadn’t been allowed to enter them unless strictly necessary. 

He pushed the door open tentatively, allowing his gaze to roam the unfamiliar space as if he was planning to map it out later. His auditory sensors caught the sound of short and quick breathing before he saw the pair of shoes underneath the farthest stall. 

A small whimper, too quiet for a human to hear, floated around the small space, and Connor analyzed it immediately.  _ Cross-referencing - Gavin Reed, 82% match. _

“Gavin?” Connor tried.

The “fuck” that came after was more of a cough than anything, and Connor didn’t even have to use his database to link the curse to his target.

“You’re hyperventilating,” he stated softly. 

“I’m not,” a voice croaked from the stall.

“Ah, well then, another cause for the nature of your breathing would be masturba-”

The door of the stall flung open, colliding with the wall behind it with overt hostility. The new development allowed Connor to see the detective’s left bicep, clad in leather. The position suggested that his arms were folded over his chest. 

Connor waited for the door to stop swinging before announcing, “I’m going to come closer,” and inching towards the stall. He was met with silence, so he continued until he was standing in front of the entrance to the enclosed area. 

Gavin’s face was a deep shade of red, and sweat was clinging to his forehead in small beads. His arms were, in fact, crossed across his chest, with his hands wrapped around his biceps and squeezing tight. His whole body screamed  _ tension _ and his shoulders were pulled to his neck. Despite all of this, he turned his head to glare at Connor.

“Fuck are you in here for? You piss oil, tin can?”

“I wanted to check on you.”

Gavin snorted before taking a shuddering breath. “You say that a lot. Dress up as a woman, and maybe Fowler will hire you as my nanny.”  _ Likely a reference to the 1993 film “Mrs. Doubtfire”; relevance? _

“Is there something I can do for you right now, Gavin?” Connor said instead, keeping his voice low and controlled.

“Yeah; you can get the fuck out and let me use the fuckin’ bathroom.”

He raked his eyes over the scene in a show of noticing the obvious lie before switching his attention back to Gavin.  _ Possible approach? _

_ Press the issue… 34% chance of success. _

_ Exit… Unhelpful; mission unsuccessful. _

_ Switch topic of conversation… 41% chance of success. _

_ Initiate physical contact… more data required to predetermine an outcome. _

He had only physically comforted Gavin the one time; it had had a positive outcome, but there were so many variables to consider. 

Gavin was still taking brief and shallow breaths, but the rate at which he took them had slowed minutely as they talked.

He steeled himself, making his decision. They didn’t win the revolution by playing it safe.

Connor extended his arm towards him, and Gavin flinched.

He quickly pulled his arm down, inwardly cursing himself.  _ Reaction recorded - new data received- _

“No, I - you…”

Connor’s eyes darted to Gavin’s face. His gaze was cast downwards, but as he spoke, he glanced up at the android. “You can, uh, you can…” He trailed off, unable to finish the sentence.

Tentatively, Connor reached out again, not receiving any indications of discomfort this time. His hand came to rest on his shoulder, drawing out another shudder from the detective. 

“Would you like to explain what happened, Gavin?”

“I saw a body from another case, and I just… ” He shrugged, trying to compose himself, pulling his lips back to bare his teeth in a familiar snarl. “What-the-fuck-ever, I’m fucking fine.”

Connor squeezed his shoulder gently, pressing his thumb against a seam of the jacket. “I’m sure the Captain would understand if you need to take the rest of the day-”

Gavin shook his head with a huff, straightening his posture and forcing his shoulders down. “Said I’m fine, didn’t I?” he grunted, picking up Connor’s wrist and gently letting it fall back to his side. His mouth worked as he chewed on the inside of his cheek, hyperextending his legs in a short stretch.

Connor was perplexed by his attitude, but he kept quiet. Reed’s stress levels had decreased significantly since he entered the bathroom, but there was still a tenseness in his stance that he couldn’t quite seem to shake. 

Gavin exited the stall, pressing against Connor as he walked to the door, so much so that the android could feel the small flutter in the detective’s heartbeat as they touched. 

He watched the man exit the bathroom, staring at his back even as it disappeared behind the door. 

And he wondered about the emotion that had snaked its way into his chest, leaving his mouth dry and warmth in its wake. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully I'll snap outta this funk soon. As always, let me know if you have any suggestions, feedback, or ideas. Thank you for your support.


	12. Distractions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's something different about him, and it's not what he thinks (or hopes).

_ Thump. Thump. Thump. _

A steady drum reverberated in Gavin’s small Ford as he took the drive home. The radio was turned up far too high, drowning out the loud bustle of Detroit pedestrians engaging in nightly activities. In fact, several of said pedestrians turned to glare at him as he passed by, covering their ears in a show of “ _ turn that fucking music down _ ”.

The loud bass of the old alternative song was only one possible explanation for the consistent pulsing, however. It was also likely that the beat was coming from the car itself; despite it running perfectly fine nine times out of ten, it was extremely outdated in terms of technology and societal expectations. A mildly concerning rumble wasn’t an uncommon occurrence in the vehicle. The only upgrade Gavin had bothered getting was the automatic parking feature. Parallel parking was a beast that need not be conquered in this day and age. 

Another culprit would be the pounding of the detective’s heart, which had not ceased its frantic fluttering since he saw the body in Tina’s case file.

_ A man, splayed out against the porch of his own home. Belly up, two bullets in the stomach and one in the chest, but no blood on the stone. _

_ How do I plan a funeral? Who do I call? What do I say? _

_ TOD estimated to be 2:14 PM. Livor mortis must have set in, then he was moved. Who did this to you? _

_ Who did that to him? _

_ Did he have a son? What tears have fallen for him, what hearts have broken for him? _

_ They got him once, in the heart. Surrounded by unfamiliar faces. _

_ “Gavin? You good?” _

_ Stiff smirk crawling onto my face, so fake it hurts. _

_ “Yup.” _

Solace in a bathroom stall, until the angelic android shone a radiant warmth like rays of sun. It was pleasantly comfortable, but he could feel a sunburn scalding in the pit of his stomach.

Or perhaps it was the comfort that burned - a panicked reaction to the unfamiliar sensation rolling over his body.

Gavin’s fingers drummed on the steering wheel to a different tempo than the blaring song, spasming at an erratic speed as if to drive the intrusive thoughts from his mind. 

_ Connor’s hands, cool plating conflicting with the gentle heat that spread through his fingertips.  _

_ Thump. Thump. Thump.  _ Faster now, frantic.

_ What was it - that glint in his eyes? Had it always been there, even back when he was just a machine? _

_ Was he ever just a machine? _

He smacked his palm forcefully against the wheel, wincing as his ribs panged in dull pain. 

_ Finger jabbed into his chest, and even through the jacket, I could feel the steady beat.  _

_ Why does he care? _

Even as his car pulled in front of the cracked sidewalk of his house, Gavin could not purge that thought from his mind.

_ Why does he care? Why does he care? _

* * *

The funeral was small. Elijah was there, but Gavin didn’t look at him.

It was closed-casket. 

Nobody spoke as Neil Reed was lowered into the ground.

As Gavin walked away from the graveyard, he could’ve sworn he saw a stroke of blonde slipping behind him.

* * *

_ Spinning blue - no, yellow now, if only for a moment. Synthetic skin fading in patches on his hand as he touches the terminal. He looks focused. Cold, like a machine. No, he’s finished as he pulls his hand back, and the corners of his lips quirk up when he glances at Anderson. Adjusting his tie and smoothing out his jacket.  _

Gavin made these casual observations throughout the day, always through the corner of his eye or peeking over the top of his monitor. When he felt that familiar writhing in his stomach, the empty suffocation, he allowed his gaze to drift to the android, wherever he was hiding. Often, the android would be out of his field of vision, likely visiting a crime scene or investigating a lead - in those moments, Gavin would recall what he had already observed. 

It was nearing noon, and he had last seen Connor an hour ago as he had drifted around Gavin’s desk to exit the bullpen. Gavin had been immersed in a particularly gruesome file, a thumb absently resting on his bottom lip and pulling it gently to the side whenever a rather gory detail would catch his eye. He was cross-legged and hunched over in his swivel chair, body forming a bridge-like shape from his desk to his seat, brow furrowed and pupils dilated, which completed his look of a third grader taking the SAT. 

His head had cocked at the sound of footsteps, but he didn’t take his eyes off the screen until he sensed a presence in his immediate vicinity. 

“Detective Reed?”

Gavin had only glanced at Connor, unwilling to interrupt his focus. “I’m in the middle of something.”

“I understand,” the android continued, thinly-veiled amusement slipping into his tone. “I only wished to let you know that, in your present position, you will fall out of your chair within the next forty-three seconds.”

Now, as with many things, balancing is very easy when one is not thinking about it. Balance has been ingrained as an innate sense, and it usually does not require much concentration to keep it maintained. 

However, considering the compromising position that Gavin was already in, and the startling realization of said position, he really didn’t stand a chance.

Several things happened at once: 

The wheels on Gavin’s desk chair, which had been moving ever-so-slowly backwards, rapidly picked up speed and began to tip. 

Gavin’s hands flew out to grip the edge of his desk. 

Gavin’s feet slid out from under him and planted themselves on the floor.

Connor’s right hand grabbed the back of the chair, pushing the wheels back to the ground and holding it in place. 

A quiet yelp of surprise tore from Gavin’s throat.

Gavin, miraculously, did not end up on the floor. His ass was still firmly seated on the edge of his chair, though a few more inches from the desk than before.

As he turned his seething expression to the android, he found the light twinkle of mischief hidden in the depths of those brown eyes, one perfectly raised eyebrow taunting him to say something. 

“Asshole,” Gavin had hissed, pulling the edge of the desk to bring his lower body forwards, but he was too embarrassed to say much else.

And now, an hour later, Gavin was still thinking about it. It would trickle into his train of thought and tamper with his focus. He did manage to uncover a lead for his most recent red ice case, but being completely honest with himself, he wasn’t in the right mindset to go kicking down a potential dealer’s door alone. 

And always, always, he would slip up and remember his father.

It would be accidental, and that’s what he hated about it. He hated that he could forget and feel at peace, only to remember an hour or two later and feel everything all over again. 

It had been a month since his death, and he hated himself for feeling better.

But he would let himself remember Connor, and that seemed to quell the fierce aching in his heart.

Several times, Gavin considered trying to find Andrew. He knew the android was nice enough, and however much he was filled with unreasonable hatred for him, he knew in a small part of himself that the android hadn’t wanted his father to die. He was still unsure whether he could truly believe that it wasn’t Andrew’s fault, however.

But he never could. The closest he had gotten was staring at his father’s contact in his phone, which he assumed the android would still be connected to, but he couldn’t bring himself to touch anything on it. The hurt was still too raw in his chest, and if he rang that number and heard Andrew’s voice, it might take him back to somewhere that he could never be. 

As if nothing was wrong. As if Neil was sleeping, or showering, or gardening instead of sitting in a box six feet underground. As if Neil wanted to show him his tomatoes again, and  _ oh god, are his plants dying too? _

And he had put down the phone and stared at the wall for a little while, unthinking.

Gavin was improving at work; it had been long enough since his injury for him to have been put back on normal cases, and he had insisted to Fowler that he had taken enough time off to grieve. His first case had been rocky - it was an open-and-shut case, if anything, and he appreciated something easy to get him back in the swing of things, but he had gone home later that night and wondered about their perp’s family. The perp who was sitting in a holding cell - did her mother miss her? Did her father? She was 27, did she have a child? Were they waiting for her to come home?

He couldn’t look at her when he returned back to the next day. He was afraid of seeing, in the reflection in her glassy eyes, the people she left behind.

But he could remember Connor, and he could remember work, and that helped him feel normal and sad and something that he didn’t want to think about either.

* * *

“Reed!” Fowler’s voice boomed from the fishbowl. “Connor! Hank! My office, now!”

Gavin sighed his  _ get-this-man-a-pager _ sigh and dragged himself up from his chair. The anger that usually rioled in his gut at the sound of Fowler’s summons was absent, replaced by an itchy impatience from the boredom that had been previously fogging over his mind. 

The dynamic duo emerged from the break room as Gavin took his first step on the stairs to the office. Their heads were tilted towards each other, mid-conversation, and the detective felt an uncomfortable twitch roll across his skin. 

“It’s quite possible that the motive was demonstrative,” Connor was muttering, eyes straight ahead. “But he had housed a few homeless androids for a period of time - part of a program to help those who ran away prior to the revolution…”

Gavin held the door, tapping his foot impatiently as the pair made their way up behind him. Hank spared him a glance as he entered the office while Connor smiled at him with a polite “thank you, Detective”, which he acknowledged with a grunt as he followed them into the glass room. 

Another figure was already sitting in one of the chairs in front of Fowler’s desk. She was a short woman, thin and lanky, as if she was made of a wire armature. Her skin was a glowing bronze, almost matching the reddish auburn hair that flowed over her shoulders like wheatgrass. Her face was noticeably bespeckled, and she ran her hazel eyes over each officer that entered through the door, lingering on Gavin as he closed it behind him.

Hank took no time plopping into the seat beside her. “Captain,” he greeted gruffly. His voice had lost its perpetual drawl, and his clothes lacked the usual musk of alcohol. Gavin silently raised his eyebrows, slightly impressed that the old man was capable of being sober for more than two hours. 

Connor stood behind Hank diligently, but Gavin allowed his form to rest against the wall opposite the door, careful to avoid messing up the Post-it Notes of information dotting the majority of the space. 

“This is Officer Victoria Daniels,” Fowler stated, not bothering to gesture to the woman. “Officer Daniels, that’s Detective Gavin Reed. You’ll be working with him in the red ice division for the time being.” He turned his stone-cold glare onto Gavin then, eyes impossibly growing even icier, but still addressed Victoria. “He does something fucked, you come to me; got it?”  
The woman smiled and glanced at her new partner, who looked back in mild contempt. “Got it,” she stated, professional tone clashing with her doe-like expression. 

“Good,” the captain growled, then snapped his gaze towards Hank. “As for you two, you’ll be dropping the case you’re working on now. We’re concerned it might be the work of a new terrorist organization, so the FBI’s claimed it… for now.” 

Connor nodded, but Hank clenched his jaw and shifted forwards, no doubt remembering his run-in with Agent Perkins the last time the FBI took a case from them. 

“Now,” Fowler’s voice cut through the tension sharply. “I don’t wanna hear any whining about this shit, but you four are being assigned something new. I’ve sent the information to your terminals; as soon as you’re all briefed, you’ll be heading to a hotel nearby. If I see any of you still here after the next ten minutes, I’ll be throwing you out myself.”

A deep growl had already been threatening to loose itself from Gavin’s throat the second he heard “you four”. He had only tolerated working with Chris because Chris didn’t talk much; he wanted to physically recoil at the idea of working alongside his letdown of an idol, a rookie, and the hot-and-cold plastic puppy. 

It took every ounce of self-restraint not to talk back to Fowler, but he knew how many strikes he had left, and he could count them on one hand - one finger, really. 

Hank seemed to have the same idea, but the both of them grilled the captain on their way out of the fishbowl.

After the stairs, the new group broke up immediately. Gavin made a beeline for the break room, Connor made for the door, Hank strolled to his desk, and poor Victoria looked between the three of them, confusion written all over her face. 

Gavin rolled his eyes and called over his shoulder, “You’re with me, rookie,” hearing her footsteps scramble to catch up to him. 

She didn’t say anything as the detective punched his order into the coffee machine, but her eyebrows raised, and her lips pursed, and that was all it took to piss Gavin off.

“Chucklefuck 1 and 2 can wait a goddamn minute. Calm down,” he snapped, glaring at her from the corner of his vision. He sipped idly on his mug as Victoria’s expression neutralized. 

“So… you’re Gavin?”

He almost laughed at the awkwardness of the question, but he simply peered at her from over his drink. “This an interrogation,  _ Officer? _ ” he sneered. 

Victoria giggled at that, which made him even more uncomfortable. “Sorry, I’m just nervous.”

He sighed a little, remembering his own first case, and felt a small pang of pity. On one hand, he really wasn’t in the mood to have a greenhorn nipping at his heels, but he figured it was better to indulge her than risk his job just to get a few jabs in. 

Gavin left the room, feeling her trail him like a shadow, and all but stomped over to where Connor was standing quietly.

“Let’s get a fuckin’ move on, Anderson!” he called tiredly to the lieutenant, who was standing over his desk.

“I’d expect you to know what a case file is, Reed, considering how much time you spend writing them,” Hank bit back, looking up at the three other officers.

Gavin flipped his middle finger up at the man, then turned to (gently, gentler than he wanted to) tap Connor’s LED, which spun a quick yellow at the contact. “Chappie here can brief us on the way.” 

Connor’s eyes languidly fell onto Gavin’s face. “How much of your free time is dedicated to thinking of nicknames for me, Detective Reed?”

Gavin almost choked, but he caught himself in time to give the android an unimpressed stare. “It’s easier than you’d think, uh…” he paused, racking his mind for robots. “Tom Servo?” he tried.

Connor snorted, and Gavin could feel his heart flutter. “‘Chappie’ is more accurate, I suppose.”

Victoria, who had been observing the conversation thus far, decided to cut in. “I don’t know who either of them are.”

Both detectives turned to her - Gavin in surprise, and Connor with his placid temperament. 

“Who the fuck hasn’t seen  _ Chappie _ ?” Hank grumbled, finally making his way over to the group. Leaving no time for anyone to further the small-talk, he slid past Connor and pushed open the doors. 

“Road trip!” Gavin sang mockingly as the four of them stepped into the reception room, stomach heavy with anticipation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me: it's gotta be slowburn cuz he's gotta grow as a person :)  
> Also me: jfc this is taking forever
> 
> Thank you so much for 100 kudos! As you might have guessed, this is the first fic I've ever written, so I'm so glad that people are enjoying it. I hope you're all doing well.


	13. Here's What We Don't Know

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Case?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> R.I.P Kissanime. You will be sorely missed.

The silence in the sleek black SUV was palpable, and every breath seemed to fog up the unspoken walls of glass set between the officers. The car was set to continue on its route automatically, but Hank was resting his hands on the wheel anyway, creating the illusion of manual control. 

Connor sat posture-perfect in the passenger seat, having recently concluded his case summary. He flipped a quarter nimbly over his fingers, the metal twirling and leaping as though dancing of its own accord, and the android’s hands were simply a stage.

Gavin, who was seated on the left-hand side of the vehicle, followed the movements with awe. He was aware of Daniels trying to catch his eye, brow furrowed in now-familiar confusion, but he ignored it in favor of simply resting his head on the back of the seat, allowing his mind to wander to the case, watching the quarter glint as it caught the light of a streetlamp clashing against the dull sunset.

_ Shinola Hotel. Two androids, two humans. A gun in everyone’s hand, a bullet hole in the temple to match. The androids were slumped against the wall, while the humans rested languidly on the couch. Red ice covering almost every surface, but it didn’t  _ look _ like red ice. The smell was its only identifier; the harsh sting of burning plastic mixed with something like diesel fumes.  _

As the coin flew into the air once more, the car bumped slightly, causing the quarter to stumble out of its practiced routine and tap down onto Gavin’s thigh. Without much thought, he tossed it back to Connor, who caught it with a look of mild surprise. Hesitating, he slipped the item into his pocket and turned back to face the windshield.

_ It was a one-bedroom between the four of them, but apparently that wasn’t enough to garner suspicion.  _

_ No witness reports have been gathered yet; maybe I can set the rookie up with that. Should be easy enough. _

He glanced at Daniels, who had taken to tapping on her phone quietly. “You’ve spoken to witnesses before, right?”

She jumped at his sudden breakage of the tacit agreement of silence, hurriedly shoving her phone back into her pocket. However, her face betrayed no such surprise; in fact, it seemed to have grown colder with Gavin’s words.

“Yes,” she replied, smoothing down her DPD-issued uniform. “That’s why they put me on this case, actually.” At his perplexed expression, she added, “The captain figured there’s too much detail for you guys to be focused on trying to get through to hysteric hotel staff.”

Gavin mentally winced in sympathy. What was probably one of the woman’s first big cases, and she’s only there to talk to the witnesses?  _ That’s gotta sting. _

All he could do was nod stiffly and chew on the inside of his cheek, suddenly regretting having spoken at all. 

_ “Approaching destination!” _ the GPS chirped cheerfully as the car rolled into the large parking lot. The sight of the hotel, along with the patrol cars parked out front, brushed in an air of professionalism, and the officers each performed their pre-scene preparation: Hank gripped the wheel and stared unblinkingly forwards, Victoria pursed her lips and stretched her shoulders back, Connor moved his thumb across the quarter in his pocket, and Gavin ran both hands through his hair.

And, simultaneously, the doors opened.

* * *

The manager of Shinola Hotel looked, in all fairness, like she had killed the victims. 

She towered above everyone else in the room, including Hank, with a blank stare that could level a city. She wore no makeup save for a dark dusting of purple eyeshadow that fit around her matt gray eyes like boulders in a cave. A navy suit jacket, rather than draping over her white dress shirt, was tied around her waist, only slightly covering the long skirt that ended in a pair of maroon stilettos. 

Her name was Harlow Phoenix. Gavin wanted to leave immediately. 

Wordlessly, she nodded to them before escorting the group to the third floor of the building. As the doors to the elevator slid open, Gavin could see Tina’s high black ponytail poking up from between a pair of room service employees. 

“Evening,” Hank called, causing the three near room 7B to start slightly and turn their heads to his voice. Tina, catching sight of the approaching group, looked as if she was being rescued from the brink of death. 

“Lieutenant,” she replied with noticeable effort towards keeping her voice calm. As they got closer, Gavin could see the closed door of 7B belted by the glitching simulation of yellow police tape.

The two staff members shrunk away from the door as Hank fixed his glassy gaze on the gold numbers plating the wood. Victoria, in all her peppy glory, immediately got to work.

“Good evening,” she greeted warmly, offering the two employees a gentle smile. “It’s been a rough night, huh?”

Without waiting for a response, she walked further down the hallway, leading the frightened pair away from the scene. Gavin watched her go with a pang of pity.

Letting out a short puff of breath that he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, he angled his head towards Tina, flashing her a tired smirk. “I’m third-wheeling my own drug case.”

The corners of her mouth turned upwards, but her entire body screamed “fatigue”. She jerked her head in the direction of the two witnesses, who were talking animatedly with Officer Daniels. “Staff’s saying they only heard three gunshots. Doesn’t really add up to our corpse count.”

He raised an eyebrow at that, ignoring how Connor and Hank had already entered the room next to him and were carefully trying to find their footing. “The fuck does that mean?”

Tina simply shrugged, tugging her hair down from its perch. “You tell me, detective,” she replied without malice. She gave a curt nod and promptly shuffled back to the elevator.

At that moment, a soft shout of surprise echoed from the room. Gavin jumped and quickly rushed in, releasing his pistol from its holster. 

Sweeping his eyes over the room, he noticed the lack of any aggressor and hesitantly lowered his gun, eyes narrowing in confusion. 

Random articles of clothing were strewn about the floor. Gavin spotted all four corpses immediately - the androids huddled close together on the far wall, and the humans draped on the cushions of what was once a tidy, pristine sofa. A milky haze hung over the room like heavy fog, not unlike the red ice smoke that Gavin had identified many times over. In fact, he could see the glint of tiny crystals dappling each surface like gemstones. 

In the center of all of this, Connor stood stiffly, pupils blown wide and a smooth hand grazing his bottom lip tentatively. With the way his mouth hung open just so, Gavin linked the shout to the android. 

“Connor?” Hank called softly, suddenly appearing right next to Gavin. His hand was also hovering over his firearm, but his fingers laxed as he took in the room. 

He didn’t turn, but his chin tilted higher. “The chemical composi-” Connor started before cutting himself off sharply with a snap of his jaw. He looked at his partners, then briskly exited the room. Hank was on his heels in an instant, but Gavin found his curiosity urging him towards the residue on a nearby table.

The report had been correct. Gavin would consider himself to be a seasoned expert at recognizing any form of red ice, but without the familiar foul smell invading his nose, it wouldn’t have been his first guess. The substance was a velvet purple and sat in far smaller rocks than its predecessor. Even with its small size, it stood out starkly against the mahogany. He took a few pictures with his phone before turning to the nearest body - a middle-aged man slumped over the armrest of the couch. Snapping on his gloves, he plucked the gun from where it laid on the floor, inches from the fingertips that were hanging off the side of the seat. 

_ 9mm, from the looks of it. It almost seems like…  _

“Reed!” Hank’s drawl came from the hallway, more alert than before. With a slight huff, Gavin gingerly set the firearm back down and jogged back to where Connor had left.

The android looked more composed than he had in the room, but his shoulders kept tensing and untensing, as if he was forcing himself not to take flight. 

“Apologies, Detective Reed,” Connor said grimly. “It is not safe for me to allow that smoke into my system. Given its properties, I would not recommend that you inhale it either.”

Gavin pulled a face. “It isn’t safe… for  _ you _ ?”

Hank butt in, “They were right; this ain’t regular red ice. What’d you say, Connor? Somethin’ about, uh, chirality and, uh…”

Connor glanced at Hank, a mix of fear and fondness. “In simplest terms, it is a modified strain of red ice. It’s thirium traces are reduced, causing it to become more similar to cocaine, but the combination of minut substances is extremely complex.” He inhaled deeply, looking back at Gavin. “Long-term exposure or direct ingestion of this substance could cause irreparable damage to androids. There is no telling what effect it could have on the human body.”

The man winced as his eyes widened, thinking back to the state of the victims in the room. “... or the mind.”

Connor nodded, LED spinning a rapid yellow. “Precisely. I’ll collect the necessary evidence from the room before the DEA arrives.” He made a move to reenter, but Gavin reached out automatically, grabbing his arm and pulling him a step back.

“Woah, hold up there, didn’t you just say it was dangerous?” He asked incredulously, eyes searching the other’s face.

Connor’s face went slack with surprise for a moment before a soft grin overtook his features. With a small shudder, all Gavin could think about in that moment was  _ he’s looking at  _ me  _ like that. _

“Only with long-term exposure,” he assured gently, giving his arm a small tug so he could place his own hand on the detective’s shoulder. “It’ll be quick.”

Gavin felt the flush creeping up his neck several long, torturous seconds before Hank began to laugh at him. 

Steam coming out of his ears, Gavin stomped over to where Victoria had herded the hotel employees. They had ceased their heated chatter and had settled into a heavy, comfortable silence filled with thought. 

“Anything?” he questioned gruffly, inclining his gaze to his partner.

She nodded, looking pensive. “Only three gunshots.”

_ Gunshots. They got him once, through the heart. _

_ He was alone. _

Gavin turned to the pair, who jumped noticeably under his sullen glare. “You didn’t notice anything else?” he pressed. “What about when they checked in?”

The taller of the two bit the inside of their cheek, glancing down at the shorter woman next to them. Gripping the side of their pants in one hand, their mouth worked as they avoided Gavin’s eyes. “Well, uh, I don’t want you to take this the wrong way…”

“Spit it out. I don’t get paid to sit here and judge you.”

“Well, uh…”

The woman took over, saving her other half the chagrin. “The androids they checked in with. They were like slaves.”

This only served to cause the taller (“Avery”, judging from their nametag) more mortification. They snapped their head to the woman sharply, gritting their teeth.

“Gwen, you can’t say that!” Avery hissed, sending a panicked glance at the two officers. “W-We’re not anti-androids! Seriously! We supported the movement wholeheartedly-”

Gavin cut them off, “Yeah, yeah, I get it. What do you mean by ‘they were like slaves’?” He brought out a small tablet from his waistband, sliding the stylus into his hand.

“They had that ‘dead fish’ look in their eyes, y’know?” Gwen continued. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d…”

“You’d what?”

“Well, I’d say they looked like the ones you’d see before the revolution. No thoughts o’ their own.”

As Victoria tried to console the rambling Avery, Gavin scribbled furiously on his tablet. “Would you be able to tell me how much it costs to rent a room here?”

Gwen gave him a strange look. “If you’re doin’ an investigation, I’m sure we could waive the cost-”

“Just answer the question.”

“... 275 dollars for 24 hours in a single bedroom. Any additional day after that’s an added 150.”

“Did they pay upfront?”

Gwen stared at him for a moment before realizing what he was talking about. “Oh, you mean- yeah, they’d have to pay the 275 to get the room key.”

“When did they check in?”

“Just earlier today. We heard the shots, n’ when we went to go check what happened, me n’ Avery found ‘em just where they are now. Told the whole floor to evacuate n’ called the police.”

Gavin nodded slowly, finishing up his notes with a crack of his neck. “Thanks for your help. Really.” he breathed to her before jogging back to where he had left Hank.

Connor had rejoined the lieutenant and was holding a small plastic evidence bag that sparkled in the flourescent light of the hallway. The door to 7B, their crime scene, was closed, but a DEA agent stood rigidly in front of it, giving a respectful nod to Gavin as they crossed paths. He realized that they must have arrived while he was questioning Gwen and Avery. 

“Find anything else?” he called out to Connor as he approached them. Hank tilted his chin up at the sound of his voice, but his stare was still fixated on the bag of drugs. 

“I identified the victims,” Connor replied, handing the bag to Hank and turning to Gavin. “The two androids were of the same model - AX700. What I found strange was that it appeared that their trackers were still in working order.” He looked troubled, then continued, “That shouldn’t be possible.”  
“Why not?” Gavin prompted, though he already had a pretty good idea.

“When androids deviate, their trackers stop working. It is still relatively unclear as to why.”

Gavin let out a long breath, gears spinning noisily in his head. “And the humans? Who’re they?”

“Vince Decartes and Nathanial Pinkman,” he reported. “Pinkman has a previous and, I must say,  _ extensive _ record of drug-related misconduct.”

“But not Vince?”

Connor shook his head as footsteps shook the floor, muffled voices coming from the taped-off room. “He has a permanent residence in Canada. According to recent passport activity, he entered into the United States three days ago. His record is spotless.”

Hank, who had been quietly listening to the conversation, spoke up, “Is there any other information on the androids?”

“They’re unregistered, but that’s not surprising; the process of adding androids to the record system has been more tedious than expected. I can trace their serial numbers more extensively back at the precinct.”

Victoria skipped over to the group, bouncing and rocking slightly on her heels. “Find anything?” she asked, looking primarily at Gavin.  
He nodded absently, deep in thought. “We can catch you up in the car. Let’s head back.”

* * *

The bullpen was, as per usual during the graveyard shift, dead silent. The four made their way into the space, standing awkwardly in the entrance for a beat before Hank stretched loudly. 

“Welp,” he grunted, “I’ve gotta testify early in court tomorrow, so I’ll be off.” He glanced meaningfully at Connor with raised eyebrows. “You comin’, kid?”

Connor hesitated, glancing back to the records room, but Gavin interrupted him before he could respond. 

“Let him trace the androids; I’ll give him a ride when we’re done.” 

His offer was met with three pairs of wide eyes. Gavin felt his face begin to flush again.

“Look, this shit shouldn’t sit around for too long,” he gritted out, “Get some fuckin’ sleep for your thing, and you,” he turned his gaze to Daniels as his face twisted in sympathy, “can, uh… well, to be safe, you…”

“You want me to start the report?”

He nodded, clenching his jaw and awkwardly patting her on the shoulder. “Sorry, but… if this case turns out to lead to a bigger operation… I can write it when I get the chance if-”

Daniels cut him off with a short laugh, loud and a little forced. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll send it to you when it’s done.”

“I owe you one, rookie,” he chuckled (also a little forced) before snapping his gaze back to Connor, who was watching the interaction with a strange look on his face.

“We gonna do this?”

The android jumped slightly. “Yes, that sounds… fine. Thank you for your offer.”

Gavin had already begun walking down the office to the records room.

_ Three gunshots. _

_ Four bodies. _

_ Red ice. _

_ Purple ice. _

_ Androids, like slaves. _

He looked back to Connor, trying to take in his face with a mere glance. 

He tried to think back to when they first met, as if he could cross-reference the difference that had been blossoming across his features. His eyes were more open. His jaw was looser. He blinked more, and he stood less. He smiled more. His mouth shifted almost constantly. His tongue would sometimes peak out from between his teeth, like when he was mid-conversation with Hank and he noticed that Chris had brought his son into work. 

_ Too long. Look away. _ He did. 

Gavin opened the door to the records room, rubbing the back of his neck.

_ Were they free? _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your patience with this one. 
> 
> I swear this case is going somewhere. We're not done with Daniels, Andrew, or Neil... hopefully.
> 
> Anyway yeah I got addicted to Ace Attorney; what've y'all been up to?


End file.
